


De Anima

by Thetis



Category: Mystic Ark
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-08-13
Updated: 2011-03-17
Packaged: 2017-10-11 01:51:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/107008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thetis/pseuds/Thetis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day in one of the many worlds where swords and sorcery still thrive, a girl was living her life as usual, exploring a cave.  For you see, she was an adventurer, and that's what people like her do.  After she was accosted by something that resembled a cardboard square, she knew nothing for a long time, until she heard the voice of a transcendent being calling her, and she summoned her strength and broke free.</p><p>The girl, let's call her Ferris, found herself on an island with the transcendent being (hereafter referred to as the goddess.)  This island was a nexus, Ferris was told, of which there were many doors, which led to multiple dimensions.  Scattered throughout the worlds could be found the arks, the keys to opening these doors, one of which would lead Ferris to where she belonged.</p><p>And with the help of the goddess, and many others, Ferris began the long journey home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	0. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I have accidentally deleted this thing twice, and it has undergone many edits, of which I hope this is the last. Please bear with me.

Book I. World of Sand

1\. The Visitor

It indeed proved hot the next day, much hotter than usual. Alvilda, the sergeant of their fireteam, led them through desert as they patrolled the perimeter of the Bloodhook's territory, Benito and Bragg trailing after her, and William bringing up the rear. It was painstakingly slow work and boring too, with the stalemate between the warring feline pirate clans. They were the proud Brigantine Bloodhook, the dark red ship half-buried in sand on one side of a long steep cliff, and on the other side, their hated rivals, the Galley Gunboss, a shadowy black ship.

Bragg had joined the Bloodhook army just a week ago, shortly after he arrived in this waterless desert island by boat, the scent of gunpowder strong in the air. The moment the cat had approached the red ship, his pale pink fur marking him as an outsider, General Sixpack and his platoon had swept him in, so desperate they were for soldiers. When Bragg tried to raise an objection to the forced recruitment, they threatened to arrest him, and more than implied physical violence would follow. It seemed this Captain Alonso was a bit of a dictator, though supposedly enlightened because he had outlawed hanging.

It seemed he could not escape his fate. Bragg thought it an odd sense of poetic justice that he had run away from one war-torn land in exchange for more of the same. He had wanted a peaceful job, shipping goods on the high seas, but unable to find work for a draft dodger, he had run out of money while sailing to Felix Australis.

Despite the rather abrupt recruitment, the members of the Bloodhook, all told, about a hundred or so troops, were not such a bad company, or the cats he had seen while ambling about. Mostly he knew about the people in his unit—Benito and William, who had shown him the ropes. Benito was something of a goofball, while William was silent most of the time, not speaking more than necessary, but with a dry sense of humor. Alvilda, the highest-ranking member of their unit, was one more difficult to peg. When Bragg had asked what happened to the former member of the fireteam, he received the simple answer in a brusque tone of voice. "KIA."

Benito, ever her defender, simply said, "She's seen many of her friends get injured or die in this war. Don't take it personally."

Sergeant Alvilda had by the far the most seniority out of many others of the same rank, having fought for ten years. William was her second-in-command, a specialist with about three years of experience. The war had been going on for much longer than before Alvilda had joined so many years ago, though no one knew how long exactly.

The afternoon sun beat down at their backs, while the occasional sirocco would blast them with sand. "I freaking hate guard duty," complained Benito, kicking at an innocent rock lying on the barren ground as they marched along the edge of a sand dune, the dry wind forming patterns in the golden sand. "Can you believe that they would have us stay out here in these conditions? I think I'm out of water too and I've got sand in places I didn't know I had. And my fur is just_ drenched_." He groaned, wiping sweat droplets off his forehead, and Alvilda threw him an annoyed look when some of them made damp spots on her vest. "Can we go back already?"

Bragg swallowed a sigh, his throat parched from the noonday sun, and he carefully took a sip from his canteen. The cat wanted to say something, anything, maybe even pick a fight to pass the time, but he knew that would just leave them both irritated and in an even more uncomfortable state than before. Another hot sirocco wafted up from the yellow sands and blew in their eyes, leaving them coughing.

Alvilda, on the other hand, had no such qualms about pissing her fellow mates off. "What's a matter, Benny? Your delicate constitution can't take being out in this heat?" she sneered.

"Just sayin'."

She snorted, taking a drag from her cigar. "I wanna know how you got into the Bloodhook short of you tossing a few kickbacks Sixpack's way." She laughed sardonically. "Oh, I forgot, you only got in because we needed everyone we could get."

'Benny's' long gray tail twitched and got frazzled. Not bothering to turn around, Benito growled through clenched teeth, "I swear, can't a guy whine a little? Even Matoya herself would be more tolerable company than_ you_."

"We're in a bloody_ war_, Benito. Get used to the bare essentials. Why don't you shave_ off_ your fur if you're that hot?" snapped Alvilda. Apparently, the heat was making everyone short-tempered.

"Ugh!" said the gray-furred cat. his whiskers twitching. "Please, Alvilda, I know_ you_ want to see me naked, but what about everyone else?"

"You wish. I'd go blind at first glance."

"Who are you to talk, you old battle-axe? Literally," Benito growled.

Bragg cut in before Alvilda could retort. "C'mon, guys. I hate it when you two bicker. Captain Alonso really needs intelligence on the Gunboss."

Alvilda, the veteran of the group, scanned the sands with lidded eyes. "The majority of war is the waiting game, kiddos. Just you wait until we get into a_ real_ battle." Her striped face twisted into a smile that did not reach her eyes. "You guys are so green you're likely to run back to Mommy with your tails between your legs."

"Hey, I've been in a battle or three," muttered Benito, "Okay, maybe two..."

Bragg bit the inside of his cheek to resist cracking a smile, and opted to sigh. "You two bicker like a couple of old marrieds." At Benito's blush and Alvilda's whisker flickering, he knew he had hit a sore point. When they both fell silent, he decided another topic was in order. Thinking about the seemingly endless war they were in, he asked, "What is this war we're fighting over about anyway? Territory?" he began to worry at his lip, wondering how it would go over with the troops he was with, especially Alvilda. "Or water?" The curious stares he received from the others fed his curiosity. "Something else?"

"Don't let Captain Alonso hear you talk like that, or he'll throw you in the brig," warned William quietly. "To show the slightest dissension is taken as a sign of mutiny."

Bragg shrugged, falling silent, fearful at the m-word. _Oh well_, he thought.

The patrol resumed for another two hours, until they were about to turn in for the day, when Benito stopped them just as they were coming within view of the Bloodhook ship, the red of the sails looking like drying blood in the sun.

Benito looked towards the horizon, blocking his eyes from the strong rays. "There're a lot of crows out today, aren't there?"

"A lot of crows over there in particular." Bragg glanced over to where Benito was gazing at, trying to see past the glare, a shadowed lump of something on the sand dune.

"Eh, they're probably just eating some unfortunate carrion out there." Alvilda began to pick at her claws.

Bragg's eyes widened, and he took a few steps towards where the crows were gathering. "Guys...is that carrion..._moving_?"

Alvilda, surprised, dropped her battle-axe with a thump and stared for a few moments. "Holy Goddess, I think you're right! How did anything_ survive_ in this heat?"

Then Oliver, a dark shadow against the white sand, ran up, his tail rippling behind him, followed by his fireteam, three other cats that Bragg did not know the names of. "Hey, I'm here to relieve you guys. Anything to report?"

Benito, awed, pointed, and Oliver squinted across the yards of sand to where the crows were swooping down and pecking at something...something which was squirming still.

"Could be some mouse that's getting eaten," spoke up William.

Alvilda shook her head, picking up her battle-axe, "Too big."

"Could be someone," Benito said tentatively.

The tabby's lips thinned. "What are the chances that someone survived? Something smells fishy here."

Bragg's jaw dropped. "Why are we even having this discussion? You're so callous!" Alvilda shrugged, her eyes narrowing in irritation. "I'm not about to leave someone to die in the desert just because I have an overly suspicious mind!"

"The captain wouldn't like it," she retorted. "Bragg, are you gullible or something? It could be a trap by Gunboss to fool us."

"Screw the captain and your traps." Annoyed, Bragg broke into a run, and ran down a dune, towards where the murder of crows was gathering.

~*~

 

At a breakneck speed across the desert, not even caring how hot he was, or that his throat was hideously dry, Bragg ran. When he got to the crows, he hoisted his own scimitar, and waved the blade at them, yelling at the brightly-colored birds. It took a few rounds of hollering and running in circles, but eventually he managed to run most of them off.

They had been attracted to the scent of blood, most likely, and there was a bit of it, but not as much as he expected to find. Bragg shook his head, hoping that whomever it was...oh Goddess, he hadn't even killed in this war yet, so new he was. If he couldn't take seeing a corpse, how could he stand...? He stooped down to observe the body, and stared, wide-eyed, his whiskers quivering, and he felt his heart freeze.

It was a girl, twisted in a fetal position, not much older than twenty, with fair skin and her long flaxen hair in pigtails. She was dressed in a white linen shirt and skirt, and her legs were laced up in tough, utilitarian boots. There was a bronze sword also stained with crow's blood, a bottle of honey, and there was a small crystal nearby, glinting. The paleness of her coloring and clothing made the dark bloodstains stand out in relief.

But this was not the problem. Bragg was not a complete ignorant, and he had seen different types of people before on his travels, from people without tails to people without fur to differently-shaped ears and the whole gamut, but while he understood this, he knew that there was something additional about this girl lying here, something almost tangible in her aura, that separated her from the others.

While he stood there, he felt something warm, a different kind of warmth than the heat of the desert, which was rapidly cooling from the descent of the sun. His nose caught a scent of something that he almost didn't recognize—the scent of ocean air, of briny sea salt.

Bragg briefly looked at the girl, her pale face crinkled up, and she coughed a few times, and it was a reminder that there were far more pressing concerns at hand. As he bent down to try to find a pulse against the pale neck of the girl, Benito ran in, shooing away the last of the crows, while William followed shortly thereafter, whistling lowly and tsking. "Where's Alvilda?" asked Bragg, his pink fur ruffling in annoyance. How could she be so heartless?

"She went in to get Calico," William said calmly. Calico was the doctor, and Bragg, as a pulse leapt underneath his paw, hoped that the girl would live. At Bragg’s hopeful expression, William said sternly, “Alvilda went to report matters to the captain as well,” and Bragg felt the pit of his stomach drop.

Benito said, "You're in huge trouble with Alvilda, Bragg. Even if Oliver was there with his unit to replace us, we didn't follow procedure and make our report."

William was scanning the horizon, then turned back towards his squad. "She's definitely not from around here,” he said of the girl.

"Yeah," Benito frowned, taking note of the tailless girl. "I wonder where she's from."

"But...will she be okay? We can worry about that later." Bragg muttered. He looked her over. The crows had gotten quite a few good shots in, but they seemed mostly attracted to the bottle of honey, which was cracked and leaking.

"The wounds are relatively minor, just a few scrapes," Benito said.

"You sure?" demanded Bragg.

Benito, his eyes downcast, said, "She may not be out of the hole yet. How long has she been out here? She may have gotten sunstroke from overexposure."

The next ten minutes were spent in silence, as they did what little they could. Bragg immediately opened an umbrella to provide some shade. William looked torn, but nevertheless soaked a rag from his pack with some water from his canteen, and gingerly patted at the bare skin, dusty with sand. Benito started to loosen her clothes, rolling up her sleeves gingerly. None of them had medical experience, other than basic first aid training.

"Don't want to see _her_ naked?" commented William drily.

Benito's whisker twitched, and he said nothing.

"Coming through, coming through," boomed a woman's voice after some minutes passed, loud in the emptiness of the sand dunes. The three cats nearly leapt out of their fur as Calico burst onto the scene, marching over the hill with two other cats, and looked down at the girl curled on the ground, her whiskers tight and displeased. "Who's this?"

"A would-be victim of the crows," Alvilda replied shortly. Bragg shot her a nasty glare, but the tabby refused to back down.

"Be as it may, she's still a person, isn't she? I'm oath-bound to treat any patient."

"Strange-looking, though," murmured William, and Benito nodded silently in agreement.

"Haven't you people_ ever_ left this island?" snapped Bragg, annoyed. "I can easily name several different groups of people that are easily ten times more strange-looking."

"No need to lecture me about_ that,_ Bragg," cut in Alvilda. "I used to do a lot of traveling myself." She scratched the back of one of her ears. "The question is_ now_ what are we to do with this girl?"

"Why does this matter when she's dying of heatstroke?" Bragg demanded.

"What if she's an infiltrator from Gunboss?" asked Alvilda. "You have to admit this is all rather strange, don't you think?"

Bragg snapped, "We can worry about that later! Honestly, I think the war's made you_ too_ paranoid for your own good."

Alvilda returned just as fiercely, "I care about the Bloodhook, and all our friends that live in it. What if saving this girl gets us all killed? What are the chances that someone survived being out in the desert this long?"

"And if not, you'd just leave her to die?"

"I just don't want to wake up tomorrow and find Sixpack and the rest of you, throats slit!" Alvilda stopped, taking a breath. "I've seen enough of my friends die in this war."

Calico stood there, her black-spotted tail dragging through the sand. "The Captain and the general are siding with Alvilda on this one, Bragg."

"_No_!" growled Bragg. He looked back at the bleeding girl. "We can't just_ leave_ her here! What kind of insanity is this?"

William murmured, "I don't know. I don't think it's right to leave her here either, but...I'm concerned about the possible risks."

Benito said, "I'll side with Bragg on this one." Bragg looked at him gratefully.

Calico shrugged, "Looks like I'm the tie-breaker," and she bent down with Bragg to pick up the young woman, and slide her onto the makeshift stretcher, really a hammock, they'd untied from the infirmary.

"What are you doing?" cried out Alvilda, aghast.

"What does it look like?" threw back an impatient Bragg.

Calico added, "I can't defy my oath, in my case. If I see someone injured, I do what I can to heal them, Gunboss soldier or not."

William warned, "The military is not a place where you can easily defy orders."

"Yeah, well," Bragg said, looking straight at William and Alvilda, "Maybe you should rethink that thing about blindly following orders."

"Then _you_ can explain this to Sixpack when you get back. You've deliberately went against the chain of command," Alvilda hissed and turned on her heel, and William, after a moment's hesitation, followed.

~*~

It was not far from the Bloodhook for the girl, fortunately. They'd managed to get the girl to half-consciousness, long enough for her to get a few sips of water, get her hydrated. He noted that her eyes were also different than theirs, a chestnut brown and round, rather than slitted. She quickly slipped back to unconsciousness, not long afterward. Bragg followed, worried, helped lift her on a hammock, untied from the infirmary, Calico and Benito trailing afterward. The four of them strode in silence to back to the Gunboss as the sun set, long shadows stretching out in front of their path.

While Calico was too vital to the war, and needed to treat the wounded, she was simply slapped with a note on her permanent record and a warning. Bragg was not so lucky. The moment he stepped back onto the Bloodhook, he was arrested for mutiny.

~*~

Later that evening, while most of the crew of the Bloodhook were sleeping or standing guard, the captain took a stroll on the deck. The deck was still a bit damp from being swabbed earlier that day, and he paced, slowly and thoughtfully considering.

Alonso remained silent for several minutes, while Sixpack waited for him to speak. "Have you heard from Pinkhead? Any intelligence regarding the Gunboss?" Alonso asked, looking out over at the horizon, where a ring of clouds surrounded the moon.

"No, Captain," He stared out to the sands below, down where the ship was marooned into a sand dune. Sixpack wondered how long the anchor, which lay some hundreds of yards away, had been rendered completely useless. There

_had _

to have been water in this world at some point. He quickly realized the captain had started talking again, and shifted his attention from those inane thoughts.

Alonso said, his voice a little rusty, "If we're going to form a counterattack any time soon, we need that intelligence. How has mining below the deck gone?"

Sixpack's tail flicked, and he sighed wearily. "We did find another vein in the quarry, sir, but it turned out to be a barren strata. I think we need to dig deeper."

"We may need to call a stalemate if this weapon shortage continues, and with the disappearance of Bullminch..." the captain looked overboard at where the night sky was beginning to pale from the emergence of the rising sun. His green eyes, luminous from the moon, darkened considerably. "Maybe even...surrender."

"Sir!" gasped Sixpack. "We've gone this long...we can't just give up now!" He clenched his fists, speaking lowly, "To talk like this, sir, is bad for moral."

"I know," Alonso laughed mirthlessly. "My own pride won't let me surrender either. But I see our troops suffering so much...and after everything the Gunboss has done to us...you're right, Sixpack. To have fought this long, only to surrender would be...I can't imagine how it would affect the Bloodhook."

Sixpack's ears flattened, and he muttered, "The girl that the day patrol found yesterday. What are we to do with her? She has yet to fully regain consciousness."

Alonso scratched his chin thoughtfully. "The new recruit, Bragg, went against orders to save her.”

“I gave him a good slugging for defying orders," Sixpack said with a wicked grin, pounding a fist against the other palm. "He'll be right as rain in a few days, don't worry," he added hurriedly when Alonso grimaced at him. "Always thought that Bragg was too gentle for the soldier life." Frowning, he said, "As for the girl...it's a very difficult case."

Captain Alonso placed his hands in his coat, one of his white sharp teeth sticking out as he gnawed his lower lip. "Sixpack, are you familiar with the stories that—" But the captain cut himself off, shoulders shaking in laughter.

"Captain?" Sixpack asked, his whisker arching.

Alonso shook his head. "A matter like this...of a foreigner of a type that is seldom seen. It's odd that it should be happening now, isn't it, when we just might have a shot at winning this?” Under his breath, Alonso trailed off, not looking at his general.

Sixpack was unsure of where he was going with this. He scratched his chin, thinking. "We need to do some reconnaissance on her before we decide anything. Suppose Matoya might know something?" He sighed wearily, even though he was the one that made the suggestion. Matoya seemed to know everything that went on in this world, and used the knowledge to her advantage. And lorded it over their heads, at that.

"If we can get the bitch to cooperate," sneered Alonso, letting out an exasperated, wry noise. "Send over William and Rachel over with a bottle of fire scotch to her lighthouse."

"Sir?!"

"Yes, I know the fire scotch is precious, but I have a feeling about this one, Sixpack. A good one," Alonso stretched, and the sky was beginning to lighten from a dark blue, almost black to violet. "We'll confine the girl in the infirmary for the time being until we hear what Matoya thinks. Until then...in the meantime, have Sergeant Alvilda interrogate her."

"Understood," Sixpack said and saluted him. "Sir, if I may...we really_ are_ low on troops. This may be just the thing to turn the tide on the war."

"Thank you for the advice," The captain scratched his chin, deep in thought. "I'll leave it to you. You are dismissed, Sixpack."

"Yes, sir."

 

~*~

 

_Frankincense and myrrh. Red flame and gold torches, a silver suit of armor...and wooden figurines. Many, many altars to people who were worse than dead. Or were they alive after all, just beyond the reach of this plane of existence? She saw white marble and blue stone rising up from the depths of the sea, and lightning striking an island._

_ "Will it be okay, Megami...will it..." A warm, gentling presence, encouraging her to go back to sleep, just a little longer._

 

~*~

 

In the infirmary, Calico and Silver were the ones to both notice the telltale signs of awakening, the twitching of a nose at the smell of sardine rations and sawdust, the flicker of an eyelash.

"Hey, the lass is awake!" The young girl squinted, only able to see whiskers and fur in her face. She sneezed as they tickled her nose.

"For the love of—Silver, give her room to breathe!" Calico roughly shoved him, and an "Ouch!" as the pair of whiskers moved from in front of her face to the side, weak sunlight coming in from a porthole to their direct right. A paw was placed on the girl's forehead, and there was the sound of water being squeezed from a rag, and then it was mopped at the girl's temple, wiping away the sweat. The girl was still a bit sweaty-looking, her eyes feverish, but much improved.

"Calico, I just want to know if she's all right. Bragg's the one that saved her, and he's up in arms and wants to know if she's—"

"Bragg can wait with the rest of you! I'm sure he has all the time in the world now to think about things."

"That ain't funny," Calico could hear the disapproving note in his voice. "Bragg really cares about our welfare, even people he’s just—"

Her voice went stiff. "Well, he should know better than to piss off his commanding officer next time. Bragg never did know when to quit, especially when he should be more concerned about his _own_ personal welfare."

"He was only..."

"The road to hell, remember, Silver?" Calico's voice was rising. "The patient needs to rest now. You're. Not. Helping. Out with you!" With that, the door banged shut. The blonde by now was struggling to get out of bed, noticing that her legs were bootless, and spotted her long laced boots next to the bed. Calico, in pale green scrubs, looked up and cried out, "Oh no, you don't!" She ran towards the hammock, just as the weak girl stuck out a bare white leg from under the blankets. "You've had a fever and you need rest!"

The patient murmured blearily, "'M fine. Just need to—find the arks..." as she struggled to get up again, but just as the hammock was about to flip her out, Calico caught her, the blanket fluttering to the floor.

The cat sighed, looking ruefully around the immaculate infirmary. "I told that idiot Alonso we need some_ real_ beds for the infirmary, not these cheap hammocks. Are you all right, girl?"

The girl could feel a droplet of sweat slide down her hot back. It was terribly warm now, especially since it was noon. "Need to—go back out there."

Calico shook her head, whiskers quivering. _Perish the thought._ "No, what you_ need_ is bed rest." The hammock settled again, and the cat shook her head ruefully again. "What's your name, girl?"

"'M Ferris. I'm traveling to find—"

"Be quiet," The cat said in gentler tones. "I'm the doctor here, Ferris. My name is Calico. One of our soldiers, Bragg found you in the desert." Calico placed her gently back into the hammock and held it steady, so Ferris could place her legs back in again, and Calico threw the light blanket over her. Ferris noticed that she had been redressed in a white smock, light enough so her skin could breathe. "At least you looked like you were dressed appropriately while you were out there," Calico muttered. "Light armor, a weapon to defend yourself, not enough healing potions, though..." She steepled her fingers to her chin thoughtfully. "We can talk later. Get some sleep."

“I...argued...”

A feline eyebrow arched. "You were talking in your sleep. Don't worry about it. Rest now."

Ferris turned a little, murmuring. "Need to...apologize..."

"Just get some sleep." Calico looked over Ferris, and shook her head. The girl had healed remarkably fast from moderate heatstroke in less than a day, and with her fair coloring...she hadn't burned at all. Strange.

It had been true that this Ferris had been muttering in her sleep, but they were senseless words, of fire and crystal and...endless waters? They were in a_ desert_, for Goddess' sake. Ferris was a long way from home, that was for sure. She looked back at the careworn girl, tossing in her sleep on the hammock. Calico knew it was best to let her sleep it off, but it was difficult. Sighing, she got up, knowing she had to help Silver change Tom's dressing. She left Ferris to dream.

~*~

_ Sleep, Ferris, and do not worry. All is well._

_~~**~~_


	1. Book I.  World of Sand - 1.  The Visitor

2\. Introductions of a Sort

_Shoot_, Bragg thought to himself. The swear echoed uselessly in his head. Other than the occasional snore of the Gunboss prisoner in the cell next to his, all was quiet.

The pink cat was one of those types who loved to have the sun creep in a little at at time through the window, and rouse him from slumber. But he had noted with dismay as soon as he entered the cell, that the window (with bars) had only a little of the pale light of dawn eking where he could not even feel it. At least on the bright side (ha, ha,) he would be able to tell the time of day without having to constantly badger the guards.

Speaking of which, there were only two of them, playing a game of chess beyond the cells, just out of sight to the left of his cell on a table. One of the guards, Oliver, his long white fur well-brushed, he suspected was cheating because yesterday, when he had been placed in his prison, the Persian had stuffed a knight into his palm.

It wasn't so bad. Dinner was more sardine rations, which Bragg ate sparingly of. The bed was no different than what the grunts got, a triple-hammock, and the food was the same, though there was nothing to drink but water from the tap. Bragg's face twisted into something resembling a smile; they certainly wouldn't give alcohol to a prisoner, but the joke was on them, he couldn't stand the stuff.

It was the sheer boredom that was getting to him. Everything besides the clothes on his back had been confiscated when he had met with the haggard Captain Alonso, who proceeded to chew him out. After the captain was done, Sixpack had his turn. It had just been yelling on Alonso's part, he was a bit enlightened, and though he still made the worst criminals walk the plank, the commander did not permit more than the minimal of corporal punishment. So Sixpack's beating didn't hurt. Much.

Bragg had no regrets, however. He only wished he knew how the girl they saved was. He scratched a second mark next to the first into the wall, marking the second day he was here.

 

~*~

 

Despite having not eaten for at least a day, Ferris seemed not too inclined towards the sardines and rice that Silver had dug up for her. There was no shortage of food, but the Bloodhook chef had gone missing as of late. The apprentice chefs apparently didn't know what to do with a kitchen full of food, and while Calico knew some basics, she was hardly in the league of Bullminch, whose duck confit was to die for. She was busy enough, besides, with running the infirmary.

Where had he gone anyway? Calico wondered about that. She hoped Bullminch hadn't decided to defect. She thought he loved his job and was loyal.

Sixpack had told the crew to secretly keep an eye on Ferris, and Alvilda was more than happy to take up the task, dropping in every few hours to give the blonde girl an evil eye, then walk out of the infirmary, muttering darkly. The last few times Calico had been tempted to drop-kick the tabby right out. It was bad for the other patients to have that sort of dark hate around them while they were trying to get some rest.

There was something curious about Ferris Calico couldn't quite put her paw on as the doctor watched the girl eat, her blonde hair a mess. It wasn't just that her pale skin was not scorched from the desert sun, or the rapid rate at which she had recovered from being out in that blasted desert. She had been observing her for the last twenty-four hours, and even when she was awake, there was just something..._odd_ about her fine motor coordination. Even if Ferris was in a place she had never been before, she still had a somewhat clumsy gait, as if...as if she had just learned how to walk. Constantly tripping over things, including the girl's own feet, bumping her shins against odds and ends in the infirmary. Calico shook her head. Maybe Ferris had been bedridden for years or something.

But...how did she end up in a harsh clime like a desert?

With a clumsy grasp on the fork, Ferris had taken a few experimental prods of the mounded rice in the little blue china bowl. Carefully, as to not drop a grain of rice, Ferris ate very, very slowly, chewing the rice, and wrinkling her nose slightly.

"What's wrong?" asked Calico, and Ferris started so violently that the fork dropped from her feeble grasp with a clatter.

"Um...it's awfully bland," Ferris said, her voice low and still a bit fatigued.

The doctor smiled. "That's why you eat it with the sardines, silly." She pointed to the two small fish lying in a square dish on the tray. "They're a little salty, mind you."

Ferris blinked guilelessly. "Oh," she murmured. Ferris picked up her fork in an awkward fashion, and speared a hunk of the sardine head on one tine, and flicked a morsel of rice with the other. And ate.

Calico couldn't help but snicker at the priceless expression on Ferris' face when it lit up when the salted sardine hit her tongue along with the rice. It may not have been duck confit, but it sure beat nothing.

 

~*~

 

A day passed while Calico kept Ferris under observation in the infirmary. She picked out a few books for her to read, and Ferris only seemed to want to stare at the pictures. While they waited for her to regain strength, and even though her fate hung in the balance, she didn't seem in the least bit worried about facing the plank. Ferris would ask a ton of questions about how things worked in the infirmary, about the different herbs Calico used to treat injuries, about how Calico would set a broken bone. But mostly, Ferris seemed curious about the magical aspect of taking care of patients.

The first time, Calico had absently chanted a low-leveled healing spell to cure an infected wound on a kitten, and Ferris' eyes practically popped out of her head when she saw a pale blue light burn away the pus and blood, leaving behind smooth and unmarred fur. Calico had sighed, patting her forehead with a napkin, not noticing the pair of large brown eyes upon her, watching in fascination.

"That's really neat, Calico!" she exclaimed, drawing herself closer to the child, who was sighing as the burn of the spell was soothed away with some homemade ointment. "What was it?"

Calico and the kitten, this one named Tom, looked at each other briefly. "You've never seen magic before?" he asked, curiosity overriding his initial fear. His fur stuck out in every direction, thanks to his whorls.

"I've…um. Uh, no, though it does sound real interesting," Ferris said, tossing her hair back as she looked at the healed, furry knee. She was still dressed in a white smock she had changed into that morning. "Could you show me how to do it too?"

Calico shook her head. "Unfortunately, I think you have to be born with the ability. "

Ferris gazed at her hands, staring at them as if they were about to shoot out sparks. "Aw, are you sure?"

"They say that it's inherited through the blood, sort of like how some cats have long fur, shorter tails, or green eyes instead of brown. It's not a rare ability in our world, but it's rare when it's as strong as mine," Calico said proudly.

"Hmm," Ferris murmured, still gazing at Tom's healed knee.

The kitten, Tom, had managed to scrap together the courage to speak to the stranger directly, swallowing audibly. "How did you get here?"

Ferris looked at the kitten and smiled, "I got here by a boat."

"Really?" Tom's ears perked, and he grinned. "I've always wanted to go sailing! By a_ real_ boat, not some lame marooned ship in the middle of a desert!"

She giggled, looking at him, and said, "I'm Ferris. You are?"

"Tom," he replied, sticking out a paw, and she looked at it a moment before taking it. "My ma says you're that traveler that everybody's 'in an uproar' about. Whatever that means."

"Does it mean that they're noisily talking about me and stamping their feet?" Ferris asked so seriously that Calico cracked a smile.

"Mainly the first, but sometimes the second simultaneously," the doctor said.

"What's it like to be at the ocean?" Tom asked eagerly. "I heard that waves can get up to fifteen feet high!"

"You mean you've never seen the ocean?" Ferris said.

"No," Tom's ears drooped, chagrined. "I've only seen the desert. My ma says the ocean's real, real far, at least three days' walk. And the desert is full of monsters.”

"Well…" Ferris grinned. "I'll tell you about the ocean, if you tell me about the desert."

"Deal!"

Later that day, Tom came back with two of his friends, and after Calico warned them, "The moment you kittens start yowling, I'm throwing you out," they sat around Ferris' hammock and swapped stories about desert life, and Ferris told them about the ocean, while Calico would occasionally stop by and listen, between healing patients. Thanks to the stalemate, it wasn't as hectic as it usually was.

"Desert's so boring," said one of Tom's friends, a tall kitten named Margaret. "It's just the same sight day after day after day after—" Tom swatted her, and she snickered.

"Ocean's the same way, I think. As far as I could tell from the island I'm from." Ferris answered, and Calico couldn't help eavesdrop. "It's massive, the ocean," she continued, her arms spread out in wild gestures, her brown eyes huge. "It goes past the horizon, and it surrounds you on all sides. The ocean I've seen was a blue-green color, and because there was no sun, it was very gloomy and the air smells of salt. It's a lot cooler out there than here, and there's always the sound of water crashing against the shore. It's nice, especially when you get the chance to dip your bare feet in the water."

"Yeah, well, with the desert there's not much to say. Sand, sand, and more sand." Tom sighed. "Avoid travel between ten and three during the day, use some potions to prevent your fur from getting bleached too much, and...ah...drink a lot of water."

His other friend, a round, long-haired large puffball named Victory, was munching on some sardine rations, and spitting the bones out in his hand. "'S not so bad. There's lots more we can do now that there's a stalemate."

"What's a stalemate?" Ferris asked.

Tom answered, "It means...that we don't have to stay indoors so much because the fighting has stopped. Mostly."

"Fighting?" Ferris queried, one eyebrow quirking.

"Yeah," Margaret said. "We're at war. Or was. Sorta. I don't know what's going on."

Calico was about to interrupt and answer when a cold female voice cut in. "Margaret, what do you think you're doing?"

It was Alvilda, her orange fur puffed up, making her look twice as big as usual. She glared at Ferris and the three kittens that surrounded her hammock. The two other quailed, but Tom was of the fearless mold. "What does it look like we're doing, Alvilda?" he said petulantly. "We're making a new friend."

While Ferris blinked, perplexed, Calico glared at Alvilda. "Tom was just curious about the visitor. And I'm keeping an eye on the whole matter, so it's _fine_."

"She's supposed to be quarantined," Alvilda practically shouted as Victory cringed, and Calico shot her another dirty look.

"There're patients who need their rest. If_ you_ can't be quiet, then I'll be throwing_ you_ out, Alvilda." Calico snapped. Adding acerbically, "Those three kittens have been able to keep it down; why can't a full-grown cat like you?"

Alvilda adjusted her battle-axe, miffed. "I'm here to interrogate the girl—"

"Ferris."

"What?"

"_Ferris_," enunciated Calico, cranky. "She has a name. I don't think you'd like to be referred to as 'that tabby over there' or 'the old battle-axe,' do you?"

Sneering, Alvilda said, "Whatever. Why are you so keen on calling her by name?"

"Because she's a person. Like me or you."

"Let's hold off on that until Matoya's decided," muttered Alvilda.

Calico raised a brow. "Since when did you give a hoot about what Matoya thought about anything? I quote, 'Matoya can take her miraculous potions and shove them up her—'"

"Um," interrupted Ferris timidly, coughing, and Calico grit her teeth, a little embarrassed about starting a fight. "Please. There's no need. I—I am only here to hunt for the arks. I didn't mean to get tangled in this...situation you're apart of." Her hands were clenching the sheets, wrinkling them, trembling slightly.

Calico nodded towards the three kittens, who were blinking and with the exception of the miffed Tom, looked terrorized. "Go," she said simply. "Alvilda needs to talk to Ferris. Maybe when she's released from the infirmary, you can talk some more."

Tom nodded, and left with the other two. At the door, Tom turned around and said to Ferris fearlessly, "See you later."

"You're Alvilda," Ferris asked, looking at the tabby, after Tom and his friends had left.

Not answering immediately, the orange tabby, her nose crinkled in slight disapproval, sniffed and shot a look at Calico. "Great idea, Calico, let the kids get attached to the stranger, and then we'll make her walk the plank when she turns out to be a spy." Calico rolled her eyes. "Listen...Ferris, was it?" The girl nodded. "I don't know where you're from, or what you're plotting, but this is a

_war, _

even if it is during a stalemate. Meaning, people get injured or killed, and the stakes are high. Normally, we like to recruit travelers, but we need more information about you, and why you came to this island." Ferris, brown eyes wide, cocked her head when Alvilda reached into her backpack, and took out a pale, translucent crystal.

“Been wondering where that got off to,” Ferris said, outstretching her hand. “Could I have that back?”

Alvilda ignored the request. "Not only are you of a different type of human than normally seen around here, but what is this crystal for? And let me tell you, I will know if you're lying."

Ferris nodded slowly. "It was given to me by Megami. She said it would help me in my travels, and it has. It warns me when there's an impending enemy attack, and I can tell what someone's intentions are with it."

Alvilda nearly dropped the crystal right then and there, while Calico stared, speechless. "That's some advanced magic," Calico exclaimed. "Who's this Megami anyway?"

"She saved me when I was in trouble," Ferris frowned, her eyes downcast, fingers fiddling with the end of the sheet. "I don't remember much before I heard her voice. I woke up on an island, far, far away from here."

Calico nodded. "That clears up some of the mystery around you. I thought you might have memory loss."

Alvilda looked at the doctor, asking, "How did you guess?"

"I'll tell you later."

Alvilda penciled in the note on her paper to do so. "How did you arrive here, then?"

"By a boat," Ferris said.

"That's right, a shipment did come in recently for us," Alvilda said, her face grimacing. She crossed off that question on her list, and asked, "You mentioned something about looking for arks?"

"Yes," Ferris answered. "Megami lost them, and she asked me to bring them back to her. She said the first one would be here."

Calico and Alvilda exchanged glances. "I've never heard of these arks," said Calico uncertainly. "I know you used to be a mercenary and would scout and treasure hunt for your clients, Alvilda. Did—"

"Never heard of them," Alvilda said firmly.

"She lost them fairly recently," Ferris said. Her long hair was unbraided, and she had begun to fidget with the ends of it. "I wasn't given much information as to what they'd look like, though. My crystal should be able to detect them when they're close enough."

"Huh," said Alvilda. "Ferris, what_ do_ you remember of your life?"

The young girl's slight shoulders were hunched now; she was staring at her feet poking out from the light blanket. "I woke up on an island. There was no one but myself and Megami there. She said..." She looked straight at Alvilda, her eyes gloomy. "That I was lost, and that I had to find my home, and in order to do so, I had to find the arks."

"Complete memory loss?" Calico felt a pang of sympathy for the girl, who looked despondent in her hammock. Alvilda eyed the doctor, but said nothing.

"Um," Ferris had scrunched up the blanket on the hammock to a ball, and she looked like she had been gathering her courage up for some time. "This war that you speak of...who's fighting against who?"

"We're the Bloodhook. Our enemy is the despised Gunboss, the black ship that resides across the sand dune."

"How long has this been going on?" Ferris was very curious.

"At least a couple of decades, if not more," Alvilda said.

"Really?" Ferris' eyes widened. "That's a long time! Why have you been fighting so long?”

Alvilda grit her teeth, “They've killed an untold number of good cats on our side, and are robbing us blind in terms of resources, which are very scarce in the desert.”

“Wouldn't it make sense to stop fighting over these resources and work together?”

“Did you even listen to what I just said?" Alvilda finally snapped. "It's not even_ your_ war, and you think you can come in and solve all our problems?"

Chastened, Ferris' eyes slid away, and she looked at the ground, her eyes disarmingly bright. Calico sighed, and rested a hand on the sergeant's shoulder. "That's enough, Alvilda. She was just curious."

Alvilda ran a hand through her fur, sighing herself. "I didn't mean to snap...Calico, can we talk now? I have some questions to ask you." She eyed Ferris with a side glance. "Alone."

Calico nodded, and called, “Silver, could you watch Ferris?” The lean medical assistant came over, looking eager for the job. “And keep an eye on the injured.” Nodding once at Ferris, she went to the door, where Alvilda was waiting.

 

~*~

"She's obviously hiding_ something_," growled Alvilda in a room in the floor above. "This amnesia story feels a_ little_ too convenient for my tastes."

Calico hissed at her, "Shh...don't wake up everybody." The tabby lit up a cigar, feeling stressed. "And while I agree it's a strange story, with little detail, there's something even stranger afoot here."

"What do you mean?"

The doctor sighed, her tail batting at the smoke. "Good Goddess, Alvilda, couldn't you have waited until you finished interrogating that poor girl_ before_ lighting up?" She looked out the porthole into the still desert night. "Ferris is telling as much of the truth as she can, I think. She must be very young, from what I detect from her, or at least very sheltered. Either that or how ever she lost all her memories has something to do with it. Maybe I should brush up on some of my head trauma, because while she does act strangely, I'm just not getting the spy vibe from her." Calico paused, gathering her thoughts. "It's like Ferris has been in a coma or something for several years. Like a child in an adult's body."

"Well, I think she's lying. End of story," Alvilda puffed angrily. "And she's a possible liability to the Bloodhook, if she isn't an out-and-out spy. It's a creative way for Gunboss to infiltrate our ranks, I'll give 'em that."

Calico shook her head. "I think that you've been fighting in this war way too long."

"I just wish it were over, Calico, for everyone's sake," The tabby sighed. "Look, let's not dissect

_me_

right now. You were evidently paying closer attention to her than I was. Tell me, what parts of the story were true?"

The doctor's brow creased. "I don't think Ferris was so much making a patchwork of lies and truth, so much that there were things she simply couldn't answer, out of ignorance or lack of experience. She only knew the name of this person who saved her. Maybe...it's just the fact that she's lost her memory, and she's a complete_ tabula rasa,_ or blank slate."

"What?"

Calico sighed. "Think about it, Alvilda. You don't remember_ anything._  That would mean everything is brand new, and you have to relearn most everything. Clearly, Ferris still remembers some thing, like the basics of walking and talking, but otherwise, she acts like a very young child. You weren't here when she was attempting to eat with the fork or simply making her way across a room, were you? She's learning quickly, but it's as if she hasn't walked in a long time. Put yourself in her shoes, Alvilda, and think about how you'd feel if you lost everything you knew," the doctor urged, "I know you're not nearly as innocent—"

"How is _she_ innocent?"

Calico kept pushing her point. "But imagine, what were_ you_ like before this war started? As a child? You_ trusted people_. You took things at face value. Everything was brand new and almost miraculous to you because you didn't understand as much. Practical magic, it's almost seen as." Calico was rubbing her forehead now. "I know it may be difficult for you to understand her viewpoint, as a battle-hardened warrior as opposed to...whomever she is, an amnesia-afflicted girl, with no history to speak of, but she must be unbelievably lost right now."

Alvilda frowned, silent, but Calico knew that a nerve was struck when the tabby refused to look directly at her. "When she says 'Megami,' it makes me wonder..."

"Somebody's putting on airs, naming their kid that," Calico snickered, and they shared a chuckle but quickly, the doctor sobered. "Besides that, I wonder why this Megami wanted her to look for these arks in the first place. Why ask someone who has lost their memory when you probably have a better idea of where they went yourself?"

They fell silent, trying to think of an answer.

"We could be dealing with_ anything_ here, and_ that's_ what makes me leery of this whole thing," Alvilda said. "You haven't seen as much crap fly in this war zone as I have, I've been here long enough not to be easily fooled by people, no matter how good of a mask they put on. A girl with some half-baked story shows up practically on our doorstep during the stalemate?"

Calico ducked her head, frustrated. "Alvilda, listen. I know you don't understand the situation, but that doesn't mean you should go out on the offensive every time. Ferris could be affected by what ever caused her amnesia, and sunstroke_ is_ known to cause confusion. It's just stupid to assume, and you could get a lot of people hurt by making assumpti—"

"Calico—"

"No, Alvilda," the doctor interrupted. "This is important. Shooting first and asking questions later? Really dumb sometimes. At least give the girl a chance. When she actually does something worth sending her to the plank over,_ then_ you can say, 'I told you so.' Until then, don't make innocent people suffer for your paranoia."

 

~*~

 

A little later after Alvilda briefed her second-in-command, William, with Rachel and a bottle of fire scotch in his bag, made the trip far north from the Gunboss, and arrived at the doorstep to Matoya's lighthouse. It was a tall golden cinderblock structure, a creepy miasma emanating from the upper floors. It was ominous, a gathering ring of dark clouds hovering around it, silent and forbidding.

However, in the foyer, there was the sound of water flowing from a fountain, splashing against the surface, and an indigo mat that had embellished gold letters that spelled out, 'Welcome.' After the long hike from Bloodhook, both cats were exhausted, and the cool water was tempting.

Before William could stop Rachel, she was stepping towards the fountain, unscrewing her canteen open. He raised a hand, about to say something, and then there was a blinding flash of light, as a strong voltage went through Rachel, and she collapsed with an agonized moan.

William was frozen in place by a mysterious force, crackling energy surrounding him, and he struggled to move, get to Rachel, move in any way. The motes of light were still flashing in his vision, and he craned his neck upward marginally when a voice boomed from above, causing the lighthouse to shudder. "Who dares?" said a cantankerous voice.

William really wasn't in the mood for this. One of his privates had died months ago, and they had finally gotten a replacement in Bragg, only for the fool cat to get himself arrested for mutiny. Their fireteam was made short again, and from the looks of it, the next likely candidate, Rachel, was just put out of commission. "Me," William managed, with his usual laconic drawl.

The feminine voice, rusty from disuse, and made rich with time chuckled, and both elements made her sound like she was hissing. Maybe she was for all William knew. "So," he said, an old scar on his black-furred arm tingling in remembrance on his arm. He couldn’t even move his paw to scratch it. "I come on behalf of Captain Alonso of the Bloodhook."

"Do cut past the formalities," the witch's voice thundered impatiently. "I've got a potion about to boil in two minutes."

Her grating voice was giving William a headache. This was like pulling teeth. "We took in an injured traveler found in the desert, but she's...rather odd. No fur, tail, her ears are round rather than pointy, and her claws are dull. Besides her looks and unusual aura, she doesn't seem to be a threat, according to our doctor who has put her under observation." The air began to crackle with energy again, and William quickly rushed to the end, "We need advice. We've never seen this girl's kind before. Is she a threat or does she come in peace? She wasn't carrying anything of note, except a strange crystal."

As the air charged with power, and William held his breath, waiting for the lightning to come.

After several moments, the lightning slowly dissipated, and the black cat let out the breath he had been holding. Matoya's voice took on an intrigued tone. "A crystal, you say? Most intriguing." William could almost picture the witch stroking her chin, deep in thought. "Were you clever enough to ask her what she wanted yourselves?"

Alvilda had told him and the answer had been as strange to him as it had been to her. Which was weird, because Alvilda had been a mercenary, and had a lot of connections and would have surely heard about something valuable. William said, ignoring the jibe, "She said she was hunting for an ark," and minutely shrugged.

"_What_!" was the deafening reply. He winced, unable to cover his pointed ears from hearing every decibel. There was low, fierce growling and he heard the sound of pacing footsteps. Then rapid, creative swearing as William's ears picked up the clattering of a potion bottle against tiles. "Damn it, I worked on that for two weeks! ...but no matter." More inaudible muttering. Then, "The girl is to remain among you. She shall not be harmed. Let her do as she sees fit."

Then the mysterious force released him, and he collapsed to the ground. William stayed in place, blinking once, then twice. "_What_?" he said himself. "That's..._it_?"

"Yep," Matoya replied. "That's all I have to say on the matter. Do run along, will you? And leave that bottle of fire scotch by the fountain." William didn't know how she knew these things.

And that was Matoya's judgment.

 

~*~

 

Ferris awoke to Calico's gentle prodding, opening her eyes to morning light. "You have visitors," the doctor said, and gestured to Benito and Tom who were standing at the door of the infirmary. The girl rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes, and then began to try to get out of the hammock, which then swayed, and she quickly got tangled up in it.

"Oh dear," Calico said, trying unsuccessfully to hide an amused smile.

"Help me?" Ferris asked, as Tom and Benito ran in, trying to prevent her from tumbling right out. With Calico's assistance, they slowly hauled her out of the hammock, and helped her to a crate, where she was sat down, and was given a plate of oranges, already cut.

"What is this?" Ferris asked, eying the fruit curiously, and gingerly picked up a piece with her bare fingers, sniffing it cautiously.

"You've never seen oranges before?" asked Tom.

Benito gazed at the girl, watching her carefully. He was here on behalf of Bragg, who wanted to know how she was doing. Benito had visited him earlier today in the brig, bringing one of his prized onions to eat from the galley. “I don't want to hear about it from Alvilda, who I reckon is a bit biased." Bragg had said, and Benito grimaced as the sharp scent of the onion floated to his nostrils.

Benito relayed the small bits he had gleaned from the little that Alvilda had let slip. "A traveler from a far off land. Name’s Ferris. Says she has amnesia, and is hunting some kind of treasure."

Bragg stared at him, his eyes screwed up. "Really? I wasn't aware that there_ was_ any treasure left on this island. I thought everything had been looted from all the coves. And most pirates don't go this far inland to bury their treasure."

"With the exception of us," Benito chuckled. "How do we even call ourselves pirates anyway? There's no water to sail in this joint, let alone treasure to loot."

"You're all wannabes," added Bragg, laughing.

Then the guy in the cell next to him, a Gunboss prisoner-of-war, began complaining about all the noise, and Oliver had kicked him out. Even thought he was supposedly here for Bragg, and the business with Ferris really had nothing to do with him, Benito found himself_ wanting_ to meet this mysterious visitor. 

So he joined the young Tom, who Calico was letting in to chat with Ferris. When Tom had said, "Oranges are a fruit that you can eat. So you really don't remember anything?" and Benito was lured back into the present.

"I remember some things," Ferris insisted, sticking out her tongue at Tom, who giggled. She picked up the orange slice, and popped the whole thing in the mouth before anyone could stop her. Chewing experimentally, she crinkled her nose at the peel, and then her eyes widened when the juicy fruit burst in her mouth.

"Hey, hey," Benito said, trying to stifle his laughter. "You're not supposed to eat the peel."

Ferris chewed for a few more seconds, before swallowing. "Not bad," she said, her eyes bright. "It was sweet and juicy!"

It was enough to loosen Benito up, and Tom said, "Don't worry, Calico, you can go back to work."

Nodding and turning, her tail swishing in the air behind her, Calico nodded, "I'll be in the room next door. I have some paperwork to fill out."

The doctor left, and Benito and Tom sat down at two of the three remaining crates in front of the center one. "You are?" asked Ferris.

Benito stuck out a paw, and Ferris took it delicately. "I'm Benito. I was one of the people on duty when you were found. You said you came by boat from the ocean?"

"Yeah," Ferris nodded, picking up another slice of orange, and this time, peeling off the rind before popping the center in her mouth. She chewed a little, and said, "I have a crystal given to me by someone, and it helped a lot on my way here. I'm still a little clumsy with a sword, but I think I can manage a lot better than I did.”

"That's neat. So you're...like an adventurer?" Tom asked.

"Or a mercenary," suggested Benito, thinking of Alvilda.

"Mercenary?" Ferris asked, raising a brow. "What is a mercenary?"

"They're like...hired swordsman," Benito said. "You hire them to fight for you for some money, and they do the job, and you pay them."

"Yeah, Alvilda's told me some adventures that she had before she became a Bloodhook soldier!" Tom enthused. "She's found treasure, and she's saved people's lives, and she's fought exciting battles, and..."

"Hold up a second there, kid," Benito sighed, exasperated. "Mercenaries have a tough life. It's not all fun. It's like living in a constant war zone, which, unless you haven't been paying attention, you _are_."

Tom crossed his arms, ever the contrarian. "Well, Alvilda always leaves out the boring bits when she tells the story. You guys are out there fighting, while we don't get to see anything back here."

"Alvilda doesn't want to tarnish your innocence, Goddess forbid," Benito pointed out, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I forgot," snickered Tom, his tail poofing up and wiggling. "You listen to whatever she says because you want her to be your_ girlfriend._"

Benito, unable to stop his cheeks from growing red, looking upward at the ceiling, as innocently as he could. Tom was about to tease him further, when Ferris interrupted, "What are girlfriends?"

Tom looked at Benito. Benito looked at Tom. Tom started laughing riotously, while Benito muttered, "How much of your memory_ did_ you lose?"

Ferris gazed at her hands cupped in her lap. "Um..." Tom stopped laughing, and noticed the awkward silence between the other two.

Tom punched Benito on the arm, saying, "Hey, it's not her fault if she can't remember anything. Leave her alone."

"Oh?" Benito said, eying the young kitten with a side-long glance. "Who's got the girlfriend now?"

"She's my friend, and nothing more," Tom said, remarkably straight-faced.

"I'm still confused. What is a girlfriend? What's a friend?" Ferris said, looking bewildered.

"And if I'm your friend, is that...like a good thing?"

Benito felt a pang as he looked at the young girl, who asked these questions guilelessly. He went quiet, and Tom, wise beyond his years, seemed to understand the implication behind the questions. "Of course it's a good thing that we're friends!" Tom said steadily with a smile.

“We are?”

“Sure!” Tom replied.

Benito thought about Bragg, in the brig, who had rescued her. "Bragg, I'm sure is your friend too."

"Wait, I thought you were Benito," said Ferris, even more confused now.

Tom looked about ready to punch him again, and Benito thought, _One thing at a time, she's still really confused._ He said, taking in a breath, "Ferris, friends are people who care about you and your well-being. They...like you and you like them. And you take care of each other, and do things for each other." He stopped there, and fell silent.

"That's a friend?" asked Ferris.

Tom looked at Benito, his eyebrow quirked. "Well, yeah. But there's more to it, isn't there?"

Benito sat there, a bit stunned himself. There was, wasn't there? He knew what a friend was, but he hadn't really sat around trying to define it in concrete terms. "Well...I guess a girlfriend is a friend too. And your brother can be your friend."

Ferris looked increasingly blank, while Tom said, "Do you have any family, Ferris?"

Ferris, brown eyes still very wide, asked, "Um, what is that?"

There was a dead quiet, after that, while Tom and Benito looked at each other, stunned. Benito swallowed, and somewhere, in whatever was left of his heart, he felt sick.

He wasn't a bleeding heart like Bragg, but there were some things...some things that shouldn't be messed with. And he knew that even though he was not given to emotions like pity, he really felt it in this case. Shaking his head, quietly, he said, "Hey Ferris, forget all that." He was sure they _all _were uncomfortable now, and sorely needed a distraction.

"Hmm?" Tom said.

"I take it you've never heard of juggling either? I can teach ya." On Benito's face was a mischievous smile. Then the cat grabbed three rations cans from inside one of the crates, and slowly began to juggle them, then quickly.

Ferris watched, stunned at the velocity at which Benito could juggle. Her brown eyes were large, and she stared at him, amazed. "That's so cool, Benito! Will you teach me how to do that too?" She frowned, asking, “Did you do that because you're my friend?”

Benito grinned down at her, his heart warming. She was a strange girl, but it wasn't necessarily a bad thing in her case. He slowed down the speed which he was tossing the ration cans. "These aren't the best things to start out juggling with. Sure beats what they're actually used for, though."

"But I thought they tasted pretty good..." Ferris trailed off.

“Just wait until you've had them morning, noon, and night," Tom said. He looked over at the fruit basket on Calico's desk. "How 'bout three oranges?"

"That's perfect, kid!" One by one, Benito tossed the ration cans into one of the empty crates, and Tom tossed him an orange, then the second, and as he got a figure-eight pattern going, the last one. Tom was laughing again, clapping in tempo.

Ferris' eyes were rounded, watching in fascination. "Wow...do you really think I can do that?"

Benito laughed, "Oh, don't worry, Ferris, these are much easier than the cans to juggle. Lighter, and easier to grip. Start slow, okay?" He tossed her the first orange, which she was unable to catch, but Ferris grabbed it from where it landed on the sheets, and started awkwardly passing it back and forth between her two small hands, sometimes dropping it onto the sheets. "Throw it upwards a little more. Yeah, a little higher, c'mon. Pick up the pace."

"What the hell are you doing to my fruit?!"

"Calico!" Benito was so surprised that he dropped two of the oranges onto the sawdust-strewn floor. "Geez, don't sneak up on me like that!" He pointed to Tom, who only shrugged. "It was all_ his_ fault!"

The doctor gave him a sharp glance, and he quailed. "That was my daily dose of vitamin C, you pinhead. If I catch scurvy because of you..."

"Oh, just wash them off!"

"They're_ bruised_."

Tom giggled, and Ferris hid a smile. William came in, a bit too casually, Benito noted, and Calico irritably grabbed the oranges and left for the bathroom.

William looked at Ferris coolly and said, "Take a shower. You stink after being in bed for days." He raised a whisker at her bare legs. "And do walk around more. We don't want you to get bedsores."

"Oh!" Ferris cried, clambering to her feet. "Where do you want me to take the shower to?"

Another uneasy silence, and then Calico came back, catching the tail end of what Ferris had just said. "Ferris, dear," Calico said. "Just follow me to the baths, I'll show you how to shower."

"One thing before I go..." Ferris said. "You mentioned some guy named Bragg being my friend. Who's Bragg?" While Benito didn't miss the narrowing of William's eyes when this was said, Calico gave her a firm push towards the corridor again.

"I'll tell you, never fear." Ferris walked in a clumsy gait, following her, and stumbled towards the bathroom. Calico gave a meaningful gaze towards Benito and William, and nodded briefly, then disappeared after Ferris.

While Tom had missed much of what had happened, but had noticed_ something_ going on, he took the oranges that Calico had brought back, and stuffed them back on the plate. Meanwhile, William said to Benito quietly, "Keep an eye on her for me, will you, for the next few days?" Benito tensed, about to object, but the black cat overrode him, "She's allowed to leave the infirmary now, but not the Bloodhook." The specialist, his eyes narrowed, looked towards where she had exited. "That girl is not stupid, despite her looks."

"How much of the conversation did you hear?" Benito asked, his own eyes narrowed.

"All of it," was the casual reply, and Benito felt a little angry at their privacy being invaded, but William cut in, "Remember where we are, and what we've fought for. To lose the war because we let our guard down over a pittance would be catastrophic for Bloodhook."

Benito turned away, muttering, "She's not a pittance." Tom stared, and William let the comment slide, turned on his paw, and marched out.

 

~*~

 

"Brr..." said Ferris, shivering in the small tub of cool water. "It's chilly!" Calico laughed.

"You'll be grateful for it after you've been patrolling the desert for hours," she explained, scrubbing her back with a cloth, Ferris' long, flaxen hair dripping water. "We keep tanks from when the rainy seasons come, and the basins gather the water, and the force of gravity draws them down. That's why the infirmary is so far underground. The water's cool from being so far from any sunlight."

"Not sure I got all that," Ferris said absently, "but okay."

Calico looked at the bare girl, her long hair obscuring her breasts, and noted the differences between herself and the girl. She had seen some people who looked like her, before Calico came to this island, but she seemed even younger than her height and form would suggest. Beyond the hair on her head, she was completely bereft of any kind of fur below. Tailless too, not even a vestigial one. As the doctor scrubbed her back, she thought it was so...odd...to be having one of these creatures under her care. She would normally let one of the nurses bathe the patients who weren't able to do it themselves, but Calico knew that there was a good possibility that Silver and the others were still suspicious of Ferris, and she didn't trust them. Well, maybe not Silver, who wanted to 'study the new life form.'

"Calico?" Ferris said, poking at a sudsy bubble that was stubbornly holding firm. "Benito mentioned Bragg. Who is Bragg? And why is he my friend?"

"Bragg was one of our privates in the army," Calico began, as she began sudsing up her hair. "He was actually the one who found and saved you in the desert." Ferris drew in a sharp breath. "Hold on a second. There was a big argument over whether or not to even let you in the Bloodhook. But Bragg and I insisted." Calico picked up a pitcher of water, and dumped it over her head, rinsing out the suds, and Ferris shook the water out of her eyes. "Since I can cast healing magic, I was too valuable to be imprisoned, but I did get house arrest in the infirmary for a couple days. As for Bragg..." her lips thinned. "Bragg got beaten, and thrown in the brig for mutiny."

"Mutiny?" Ferris said, and Calico knew she recognized that mutiny was not a good thing.

"Yeah," Calico helped her out of the tub, and helped her dry off with a towel, squeezing the cold water from her hair. "The brig is a jail, where they confine and punish people who have disobeyed the law."

Ferris looked at her, eyes wide, and sadly she said, "He...Bragg. Why would he...why would he do all that for me?"

Calico said wryly, "He has a thing against leaving injured people in the desert, no matter their race." Ferris sniffed a little, shivering still even wrapped up in the warm towel. "No matter, Ferris. I do have good news, though." The girl looked at Calico. "William came to tell me that you're allowed to leave the infirmary, now that we've gotten word from Matoya. But Alonso decreed that you're to stay with Benito for three days, just to make sure."

"Of what?"

Calico said grimly, "That you're not a spy for Gunboss."

"That other ship that you guys are fighting?" Ferris asked. "How do I prove that?"

Calico, patting her shoulder, said, "You'll have to figure that out on your own, Ferris, dear. I'm not quite sure what they're looking for myself."

 

~*~

 

Jalacy was swabbing the decks of the Gunboss, letting out a sigh. Pinkhead couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, please, Jalacy," Pinkhead grumbled. "You've only been mopping for five minutes."

"But my head hurts after being hit by that scimitar-toting skeleton in the mines," Jalacy whined, "and they didn't have any potions for it at the infirmary." Pinkhead raised his eyebrows at that.

"That's odd," Pinkhead said curiously. "Why is that?"

"Dunno," Jalacy shrugged. He paused, looking up at the bright morning sunlight, and they could hear the distant caw of a crow.

Casually, Pinkhead adjusted his bandanna, saying, "Is there a problem with the potion supply?" His nose twitched slightly, looking a bit torn.

"Dunno," Jalacy said again. The conversation lapsed into silence, and after three more hours, Pinkhead was left with a new lead and a clean deck. Of course, he had to do most of the work; somehow Jalacy had managed to shirk the chore by disappearing below deck to use the toilet halfway.

No potions in the infirmary for something like a bump on the head. Pinkhead bit his lip, looking at his reflection in the deck, seeing a blue cat stare back at him. A possible weak point to exploit in the Gunboss.

However, did he want to report it back to the Bloodhook? Pinkhead shut his eyes, shivering in a cold sweat in the dawning light. Which side was he on? He wasn't so sure anymore.

Before he nabbed this job as a spy for the Bloodhook, his idea of the enemy side was rather vaguely evil and he imagined they were the kind of cats who indulged in tipping over saucers of cream and stepping on other cats' tails...well, maybe a bit worse than that. When he became a spy who worked in the forge, and an actual member of the enemy army...he was troubled to realize how_ alike _the two armies were.

Maybe Gunboss drank a little better—the enemy had quite the full bar, but Bloodhook had Bullminch, who was an actual gourmet chef, so their side ate better. Otherwise, the army life was the same. It was composed of the same types of cats, from all walks of life, as was the Bloodhook. Pinkhead had only met the famed (and pretentious-sounding) Captain Cribut de Chavez once, but the lower ranking members, especially Musil and Giovanna, seemed the decent sort, downright...nice. He wouldn't mind sharing some catnip beer with one or two of them...and to be honest, he actually_ had.  
_

Sighing, Pinkhead propped up his forehead against his mop, wondering if he had already betrayed his own side.

 

~~**~~


	2. Book I.  World of Sand - 2.  Introductions of a Sort

3\. Between Missions

It was another dry, hot day at the Bloodhook, and meeting in the stuffy captain's quarters just made things even worse. It was only the four of them, Captain Alonso, General Sixpack, Sergeants Alvilda and Oliver, but the room was cramped enough that it made the small room uncomfortable to sit in. 

“A mission?” asked Alvilda curiously. “The girl's still under watch, Captain! Are you sure that's wise?” 

Alonso said, “We have to put Ferris to the test at some time or another.”

“With all due respect, I get that, Captain,” Alvilda replied, biting her lip. “But we've been waiting for this intelligence from our informant for ages. Shouldn't we have the girl do something more trivial, with less potential repercussions for the Bloodhook?”

Oliver spoke up this point, “I agree with Alvilda on this one. This Ferris should at least accompany someone on a watch or something before we give her a vital assignment like that.”

Alonso was firm. “I insist that Ferris eventually get the mission. The message is coded anyway, and Gunboss has yet to crack our codes. The spy has not been contacted for at least a year, and it's imperative that we reach him.”

“Why the insistence that the new recruit get the mission, Alonso?” inquired General Sixpack.

Alonso said, “They say that a pair of new eyes brings perspective to a situation. If this girl can see something that we haven't been able to, then maybe we can bring this war to the end.”

Three pairs of whiskers twitched, and Alvilda drew in a breath slowly. “And if Ferris ends up betraying us to the other side?”

“Already one step ahead of you, Alvilda,” Alonso grinned. “Ferris will not be privy to anything of use. When we send her to make contact, the message will be useless to everyone except the informant.”

Sixpack nodded and Alvilda looked thoughtful, her eyes darkening. Oliver said, “I still think it unwise to send her out. If Ferris can't handle mere crows, how is she going to get to the Gunboss in the first place?”

Sixpack said, “Send her out with Benito. He's the one watching her. Have William accompany them as well. Get her some on-the-field experience.”

“If you must,” Captain Alonso said. “In the end, though, she is to get the mission. Understood?” The three lower-ranking cats nodded. “Dismissed.”

 

~*~

 

The first person that Ferris wanted to visit was Bragg, and she would not be deterred from that. Victory, of course, insisted that they at least get some food in their bellies before the night shift got off and mobbed the kitchens. 

They took her to the galley to eat some sardine rations with rice, with oranges for dessert. Benito and Tom were sick of the food at this point, but Ferris ate it with great relish, savoring the meal, and meticulously not letting a single scrap of food got to waste. She didn't even leave a grain of rice in the bowl. 

“You practically inhaled that,” commented Margaret, her eyes wide. 

“'S tasty,” Ferris said, between bites. Swallowing the last mouthful, she placed her bowl and fork down on the tabletop with a clatter. “Could you show me where it came from?”

“Uh?” said Benito, arching a whisker. “Well, let's see if Lawrence and Sparrow are free. Maybe they could show you how they cook.”

While Victory snorted into his rice, something that sounded like a cross between a guffaw and a choking sound, Ferris looked over at him. “What's so funny?”

“Calling what the assistants do _cooking. _They know how to use a can opener, if that,” Victory sniffed. “Bullminch is our actual chef, and he's the only one around here that'll give you a real meal.”

Ferris stared at the remnants, or lack thereof, of the food she just ingested. “Tasted fine to me.”

“You are deprived.” Tom and Benito said simultaneously. Then they looked at each other and scowled. 

“Now neither of you can talk,” Margaret said, laughing. 

“Why?” Ferris asked.

“Lousy kids. As if I play by your superstitions.” He explained to Ferris, “When two people say the same thing at the same time, it's called jinxing each other, and you can't talk until someone unjinxes you.” Getting up from his spot, he motioned for Ferris to stand. “C'mon, I'll show you the kitchens.”

As it turned out, after they stepped out of the galley, the entrance to the kitchens was being mobbed by several privateers now, and they couldn't get within spitting distance of the door. Victory did manage to grab an onion for Bragg.

“Is this food too?” Ferris asked, looking at the white bulb with no small amount of curiosity.

“Yep,” nodded Margaret. She explained to the girl, “Ferris, only two people are allowed to visit someone in the brig at one time, so Tom, Victory, and I are going to take off now.” 

“Aw,” said Ferris, a bit disappointed. “But we'll see each other again?”

“Of course!” Tom said fiercely. He batted at one of Ferris' long braids in affection. Calico had done her hair, since Ferris was too clumsy still. With that, the three kittens left, Tom waving goodbye.

Which left Benito with Ferris in tow. The gray cat led her down below to the dank rooms below that made up the brig. Rachel, still recovering from her wounds from visiting Matoya, explained to them rather irritably, “Just shoot the breeze through the bars. Bragg's allowed to have the onion, but otherwise, if I find out he was able to escape because of you...” she trailed off meaningfully, then glared at Ferris. “Especially you.” She stayed within watching distance from the other room.

With that, Benito and Ferris approached the cell, dimly lit with light from a high porthole. Ferris had been dressed in one of the garish pink uniforms of the Bloodhook. Bragg went over to the front bars, grasping them. “Are you Ferris?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said the girl, scratching her head, a bit unsure, looking back at him. Benito took out his knife, beginning to cut up the onion into slices for Bragg. 

Bragg joked, “Well, I'm Bragg, if you're not sure if you're Ferris.”

"I know that you're Bragg," Ferris said, smiling a little. "Calico and the others told me about how you found me. You're really not mad about me getting you in trouble with Sixpack?"

"Well," Bragg said, "I was kind of roped into it.”

“Really?” Ferris arched a blonde eyebrow. 

“Yeah, they threatened to throw me in the brig if I didn't enlist. And being a pacifist at heart, I ended up in the brig anyway." He gestured to the cell around him. "So, here I am."

The girl shook her head, staring at the small, minimally-furnished cell. "Is it terrible being in the brig?"

He chuckled. "I can't say I like it very much, but you gotta stand up for what you believe in. But they do treat me well as a prisoner, though I wish I had something to do. Do you know anything else besides your name?"

“Not really, no,” Ferris admitted.

“So it's true.” Bragg said.

“How much have you heard from the gossip that floats around here?” Benito said.

“That her name's Ferris, she has amnesia, and she eats oranges whole,” Bragg's face began to twitch slightly, and Benito let out a guffaw.

Ferris turned red. “Just that one time.” Benito clapped her on the back, handing Bragg a slice of onion with the other. He offered Ferris one too, who popped it in her mouth. Her face crinkled in disgust, and she spat it back out into her hand. “What...what _is _this?” 

“We're just messing with you, Ferris. That was an onion, and they're not typically eaten raw,” laughed Bragg heartily, popping his piece of onion in his mouth. The girl stared at the raw onion bit in her hand, nose wrinkled, and let it drop to the floor. “But how are you?” he said, his expression turning serious. “How'd you lose your memory?”

“I'm not sure about that either,” she murmured, still looking lost, then she shook her head abruptly. “Um, Bragg?”

“Yeah?  
“Tom said you were my friend.”

“Tom...that young kitten?” Bragg asked, his brow furrowing. “I don't really know you yet, but I wouldn't mind being your friend.”

“But—” Ferris bit her lip. “You got yourself thrown into the brig because of me. If there's...I feel like I owe you something because of that.” Frowning, she added softly, “Did it hurt a lot?”

“Did what—” Bragg blinked from behind the bars. “Oh, the beating, how did you find out?”

Ferris focused her eyes intently on the cat, and Benito raised his whiskers at that, surprised. “The way you move. Like it hurts to move in certain directions, y'know? So you move slowly...gingerly? Is that the right word?”

Bragg gulped, and tried to shrug it off. “It's no biggie! Don't worry about it.”

Ferris shook her head stubbornly, and seemed to be concentrating on a point on his ribcage, her brown eyes growing hazy. Benito gaped as Ferris was surrounded by a pale green light,which circled around her once, then twice, leaving a trail of shimmering light in its wake, which lanced out, and then Bragg made a quiet sound of discomfort, as he felt his wounds being knitted at an enhanced pace. As the light melted away, so too did the burn, and when he unbuttoned his vest, he realized that the bruising Sixpack gave him was gone.

“Hey, hey, _hey_! What the hell is going on here?” shouted Rachel, who just saw Ferris cast her very first spell on someone.

Benito looked at Ferris in amazement. “Did you just...heal him with..._magic_?”

“Was that what it was?” Ferris asked, looking bewildered. “I was just trying to do what I saw Calico do to Tom once.”

“Holy...cats!” Bragg let out a low whistle, rubbing at the former bruises. “It's not sore anymore, that's for sure.” 

Rachel stomped in, grabbing ahold of Ferris' arm, and began to haul her up the stairs. “Sixpack,” she said breathlessly, her eyes wide with shock. “Now!”

Benito quickly followed, his eyes apologetic towards the forgotten Bragg. Bragg shrugged at him, as if to say, 'never mind me.'

 

~*~

 

As it turned out, Sixpack ended up putting Ferris through a whole battery of tests to see just what she was capable of. At the moment, she was an able wielder of the sword, though somewhat hesitant, could cast a weak healing spell, and an ice spell—a very useful ability in the desert. 

“Are you kidding me?” Benito asked Alvilda later, while Ferris was still speaking with General Sixpack in the inventory room. “She knows magic?” 

Alvilda was pacing, the tabby troubled by the news. William stood, silent as usual, watching both of them, some tension in his black-furred shoulders “She's still a kitten in terms of her potential. Who knows what else she'll be able to do with some battle experience?” Frowning, almost to herself, she added. “I guess she wasn't nearly as hapless as she first appeared.” She picked a piece of lint off her vest. “She did make the journey from the seashore to here, and that's no mean feat. Even with a crystal that warns Ferris of enemies, she'd still have had to contend with unfamiliar territory, and environmental hazards of thirst and sunstroke.”

“But that's good for her, isn't it?” Benito asked.

“Not for us if she turns on us,” Alvilda said grimly. 

“It shouldn't happen if we don't give her reason to,” William responded, scratching his chin.

Alvilda grimaced. “I really don't like this. We've got to play nursemaid to this girl in a woman's body, who's asking a lot of questions. I smell a rat.”

Benito looked at the tabby. “I think you're reading this situation wrong. I don't think Ferris would do that.”

“How do you know that?” William asked, this time with genuine curiosity. 

The gray cat stood up. “Intuition, I guess.” Before Alvilda scoffed he added, “At first glance, Alvilda, most people would think you were just a hardass,” he quickly continued before she could interrupt, “but I got the sense that you weren't a bad cat. And I was proven right when you saved Bragg from a fire pot explosion in the last skirmish.”

Alvilda snorted. “Just doing my duty, private. No need to get sentimental about it.”

“And Alvilda's still an obstinate hardass, so your intuition was wrong,” William said dryly. Alvilda cuffed him on the back of his head. 

“Anyway, after we train up Ferris a fair bit, we're sending her out on a mission,” Alvilda continued.

“Mission?!” Benito looked stunned, while even William's eyes widened slightly. “I've been here since the tail-end of the last battle, and this boring stalemate, and _I_ haven't even been sent on a mission!”

“Yeah, well, _you_ did diddly squat in the last battle,” Alvilda sniped. “At least Ferris fended off crows, desert heat, and Goddess-know-what else in that blasted desert.” Rubbing at her forehead, she straightened when she saw Ferris come out of the inventory room with General Sixpack. “Sir?”

Sixpack nodded at Alvilda, looking inordinately pleased, while Ferris greeted them with a nod and cheerful smile. The general said, “We'll be sending Ferris out with you for a patrol later tonight. If successful, she'll leave for a mission, as soon as she rests up after the patrol.” Turning to Ferris, who stood at attention. “At ease, private.” Benito arched a whisker at this new title. “You've been briefed with the specifics of your mission, and you know what to do. Your mission is classified, meaning you are not to speak about it to anyone.” To Alvilda, he said, “I'll meet with you later, to discuss things. Ferris should go to the clinic to help out Calico with the wounded.” 

Turning to Benito and William, he added, “Have her get familiar with the grounds between Bloodhook and Gunboss when you take her out. You may be dismissed to get ready for the night patrol.”

~*~

 

Benito and William ascended the staircase to the second floor, crossing the cafeteria and into the galley, to stock up on sardine rations and oranges. “What's up, mates?” greeted Lawrence, one of the apprentice chefs. There was some noxious liquid boiling in the pot, which the two other cats steered clear of, William with a wrinkled nose.

“What _is _that?” asked Benito, looking as if he was about to be sick. 

Sparrow poked her head up from behind one of the coriander pots, giving them a fright. “The captain was complaining about there being nothing but the salmon rations.”

William resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Just wait until Alonso runs out of those, and he's stuck eating sardines like the rest of us.” 

“Yeah,” Benito added. He eyed the pot with some trepidation. “Though I don't envy him being your guinea pig.”

Sparrow's eyes narrowed. “What's that supposed to mean?” Lawrence grinned, the slight not bothering him in the least, and lay a hand on Sparrow's shoulder to calm her. She sighed, swiping her forehead with her toque. 

“I sure wish Bullminch was here,” Lawrence said. “Do you guys have any idea what happened to him?”

“No clue,” said Benito. Sparrow was biting her lip at that, looking miserable, but then whatever was in the pot ran over.

Lawrence groaned, while the other apprentice went over to turn off the burner. “Well, I guess it's back to the drawing board.” 

“What _was_ that?” asked William. 

Sparrow said, “I was trying to make some chicken broth to use in a cream sauce for pasta.” Her ears were flattened, and her expression was of utmost misery. “Bullminch always told us never to take shortcuts, but I just can't cook as well as he can. That's why you guys are stuck with the rations.”

Benito frowned, “Why don't you try to start simple, then? I thought you guys were learning from Bullminch how to cook.”

Lawrence and Sparrow exchanged glances. “Don't get us wrong,” Lawrence said. “Bullminch was a great chef. He just...well...”

Sparrow, the blunter of the two, said, “He moved too fast for us to pick up anything. In this business, you have to work quickly, and it's too fast for us to keep up. I can cook a little, just not in such large proportions and in such little time.”

“Yeah, what she said,” Lawrence deflated, depressed.

“I see,” William's eyes were squeezed shut. 

Benito asked, “It's okay. We're here to pick up rations for tonight's patrol.”

Lawrence's ears perked. “The new recruit?”

“Yeah, Ferris,” Benito replied. 

Sparrow asked shyly, “Does she have no tail like they say?”

“Like who said?” William was never the type for gossip. Sparrow turned red.

“Calico checked, and said that Ferris doesn't even have the vestiges of one,” Benito said, taking the rations that Lawrence was handing him, and stowing them in his pack. 

“Seriously?” Sparrow said. “Wait. Calico said? What, you didn't check yourself?”

“Wait what?” Benito said, miffed. “It's not like I spend time checking Ferris' rear! I mean, as far as I can tell.”

Lawrence added slyly, “We know how you like to chase people's tails now and then.”

Benito sputtered, trying to respond to the outrageous comment, and William nudged him toward the exit. “Ignore them; they've got nothing better to do.”

They left the kitchen with Sparrow's bright bell-like laughter ringing in their ears. None of them gave so much as a passing glance to the glowing crystalline heart floating desolately in the corner.

 

~*~

 

They headed back to their room on the first floor, next to the inn, to take a nap before heading out after sunset. At first, it was quiet, the only sound that of the two cats stripping off their gear, and getting into their hammocks. Once the porthole was covered with a shade, there were a few minutes of silence, the only sound the swaying of the hammocks, and then Benito said, “It's been really eventful, the last couple of days.”

William snorted drily, turning over. “You know, I was about to drift off there.”

“Sorry.”

“It's all right,” the black cat replied, looking over briefly to Benito, who was staring up at the ceiling, eyes luminous in the semi-darkened room. 

“It's been a strange last couple of days,” Benito repeated. 

William grumbled, “Mr. Point-Out-the-Obvious, yes, it has. We've had more 'excitement' here than in the last year of stalemate. It's good in some respects. I mean, it had gotten boring.”

“What was Sparrow on about anyway?” Benito muttered. 

The black cat chuckled. “You always had a bit of a soft spot for women.”

“Hey!” cried Benito. “I only have eyes for one woman, and you know it.”

“Too bad she's too sharp to fall for you.”

“Really?” Benito's voice took on a somber quality. 

William sighed again. “Benito, why don't you just ask Alvilda out or something? She doesn't think you're serious the way you just flirt.”

“Well, maybe I'm not,” Benito muttered. “That hardass is difficult to pinpoint herself.” 

“Pot, kettle,” the black cat resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “You've been stuck on her since you got here.” When there was no reply to that, he turned over. “Suit yourself.”

 

~*~

 

“Okay, privates, atten_tion_!” William said in such a sharp tone of voice that Ferris nearly dropped the new buckler she had received from Benito. She quickly straightened from where she had been clipping it on her arm, and saluted, along with Benito. 

William surveyed his current fireteam with a bit of tension in his shoulders. “We're short a privateer, but we'll make do with what we have. Considering the weapon shortage, we're fortunate in that you have your own sword, private,” though his face indicated his doubt about her remaining armed. His hands were neatly tucked behind him, his back facing the almost-vanished sun, casting his face in shadow. “Besides this isn't a true mission; just some reconnaissance for Ferris' benefit.” Ferris blinked at the mention. “Along with a crash boot camp course. We'll start by a brief run around our camp.” He blew his whistle harshly, and the girl cringed, Benito hiding a smile at the reaction. 

They immediately went for a jog around the perimeter of the Bloodhook camp, and William noted that Ferris was in good shape, able to keep pace in her spot behind Benito. He called out the paces as they ran, and William kept an eye on her, the blonde braids on her back bouncing with each step. She was constantly looking around her, as if to make sure that no one was trying to sneak up on her, and her fingers itched towards her bronze blade occasionally when she heard the caw of a crow from far off.

It looked like that if Ferris wasn't concentrating too hard on this walking thing, she could run quite ably, though her feet did occasionally wobble with weakness. Calico had suggested that Ferris might have been bedridden for years, but the power of her muscles in her arms and legs belied this. William could come up with no reasonable explanation for it—other than a nasty blow to the head of a once-capable adventurer. 

That must've been some slap to the head, he thought, to forget what friends and family were. 

They took a break near the bridge, just north of where part of Gunboss' territory was. It had been captured in the last year, and there was a stock of supplies, mostly sardine rations and a crate of water. 

At the entrance of the building, Ferris' legs practically gave out from under her, and she settled against the wall. Benito said, “Your legs probably feel like jelly, eh?”

She panted, “Ti-tired. Water?”

William tossed her a bottle of water, which she snapped up with little effort. He raised a brow at this, but she didn't notice in the slightest, unscrewing the bottle and guzzling down a third of it. Benito grinned, reaching into his pack, and getting his own bottle. “First lesson of the desert,” Benito said. “Always keep water on you. You're going to need it.” Wiping at his dripping forehead, he added, “The sun's down, so it's not nearly as hot, but when you do need to travel during the day, do it near sunrise and sunset. And keep the top of your head covered.”

William watched as Ferris got up, looking around the moonlit, single room building. She approached the lone piece of furniture, a table, and ran her fingers along a dusty indentation in the surface, a crescent moon. “What's this?” she asked.

The black cat shrugged, taking his own draught of water from his pack. “This is Gunboss' territory technically, but it's really more neutral ground, where we arrange meetings and the like. If you try opening the gate south of this building, it won't budge—and there's no keyhole either.”

Ferris frowned. “Odd.” 

Benito stood up, his gray tail stretching behind him, and he asked, “What's next, oh great leader?”

“Knock it off, Benito,” William said easily. “We're just going to practice. Maybe even test some Ferris' magical powers.” 

“Er...” Benito looked uneasy at that unexpected remark, eying Ferris. “Just how powerful are those ice spells of yours?”

Ferris screwed up her face a little, her face openly thoughtful. “I really need to practice more, get a better idea of what I'm doing.” She held up her hands, which had long and thin fingers. “Magic's a bit more rare than Calico made out, isn't it?”

William nodded, “Healing magic isn't that rare, but at Calico's strength they are. As for combat magic like ice, fire...we have a few guys in General Sixpack's phalanx that can do a fair bit of casting.”

“Where does it all come from?” Ferris asked.

“What, magic?” said Benito. “Been around since time began, as far as back as there were people, there was magic.”

“I'd worry more about getting the power under control than its origins at the moment,” said William gruffly. “After all, wherever it came from, it doesn't change the fact that it's a tool on hand that could very well save your life out in the field against those Gunboss bastards.”

“If I may ask...” Ferris began timidly. “why are we fighting them again?”

William got to his feet. He didn't seem as annoyed about the question as Alvilda. “They've taken many of the limited resources in this desert, and we're fighting back to take what's ours. They've killed many good cats on our side, and practically everyone you speak with on the Bloodhook has some personal tragedy, no thanks to the Gunboss.”

“Oh,” said Ferris, frowning slightly. They left the nondescript building, William still brooding. While he was marching ahead, preoccupied, Benito nudged Ferris, asking, “What's eating you?”

The girl was looking at the stars in the midnight sky, and asked, “Benito, what were _your_ personal motivations for being in this war?”

“Well...” Benito was silent for a moment, thinking of a time, earlier, about six months into when he had first been abruptly recruited by the Bloodhook. While he was glad for the work and pay that being a soldier offered, he had been troubled by the fact that most of the privateers were fighting for personal grudges, rather than one overall cause.

There was the general line of 'limited resources,' but personally, he wondered why those limited resources were being squandered on fighting wars. He never did get an exact date of when this war began. 

Once while Benito was trying to find Alvilda, he walked into her bunk, without thinking to knock. Her battle-axe was lying next to her, and she was soundly asleep by the crook of where her bed met the wall, motes of dust floating in the air in the afternoon sunlight. The bright light drew attention to the drying trails of tears falling down her face. 

William had mentioned briefly, when he had joined their fireteam on their first march, that a Gunboss soldier had killed one of Alvilda's friends. Alvilda never showed signs of mourning, to the point where Benito wondered sometimes whether his superior cried ice crystals. 

Benito, first of all, backed the hell out of that room. Alvilda would have axed him then and there if she ever knew. He had seen how she had suffered, with so many casualties, so many dead and wounded. He remembered the soldiers not even having weaponry to defend themselves in the desert, coming back injured or worse. Calico's stiff back as she bent over to heal so many that she nearly collapsed in exhaustion, and the wails of hunger that Victory made when there was nothing to eat but oranges. Many of the kittens were suffering from malnutrition, and the older members of the Bloodhook had given up their own rations to keep them fed. All because of Gunboss.

“I have my personal reasons, just like anyone else,” Benito finally said to Ferris. “But...I sometimes wonder...if we've forgotten entirely why this war even started.”

Ferris' frowned deepened at that, but she remained silent, as they staked out a place to begin practice.

 

~*~

 

Ferris was standing with a wooden practice sword, looking comically confused. “You want me to do _what_?”

Benito could only sigh, while William said somewhat snidely, “I'm not made of straw. Go ahead, swing at me.”

“Uh, right,” Ferris lifted the wooden sword easily, gave a few practice swings, and then charged.

There was a startling loud _crack_ when Ferris' sword met William's buckler, and several more followed as the black cat parried the girl's attacks. Benito watched carefully, occasionally commenting, “Okay, not bad, but move your hands on the hilt higher,” or “Step forward quicker when you swing.” There was no denying Ferris' natural talent with a blade, however; fairly soon, her eyes lowered a little, almost as if in a trance, and it was as if she was moving in a rapid ballet with William, aiming for the buckler.

Then William began to strike back and began to return the parries, letting Ferris dodge a few of them, then pressing harder against her, and he smote her harshly on the wrist, knocking the sword out of her hand.

The black cat was surprised when Ferris adroitly switched hands, the handle in reverse, and she quickly smacked William back almost too light to feel it, returning the favor. “C'mon!” snapped William. “This isn't a game!” Very quickly, he knocked the wooden sword out of Ferris' hands, and sent her stumbling to her knees.

Benito nodded, and said, “He's right, Ferris. You have to take this seriously. I thought you were playing a game of tag towards the end.” 

Ferris straightened, frowning a little. “But...I...I didn't want to _hurt _William.”

William squeezed the bridge of his nose, rolling his eyes. “You have to pretend that I am a soldier of Gunboss. I am not William, not an ally. I am intent on maiming and possibly killing you.” 

The girl swallowing, got up, picking up the wooden sword once more. “I...I'll try.”

The black cat insisted, “Don't try. Do.” He charged forward once more.

Benito continued to watch, occasionally voicing corrections. And while Ferris began to follow up with her attacks more, they could not get her to even so much as bruise William. Benito called a time out, and sent Ferris to the other end of the dune, and went over to talk to his superior.

“What is up with that girl?” William growled lowly, frustrated. 

“Timid, maybe?” whispered Benito. He looked over at the end, where Ferris was wiping away at sweat on her forehead roughly with a sleeve, taking a long sip from her bottle of water. Her braids were a bit loose, and coming undone, and it was getting late—or early, depending on the way you looked at it. “She's pretty good, but maybe she needs some kind of...I don't know...incentive?”

William's eyes looked up at him suddenly from where his face had been buried in his paws. Then he grinned. “I think we have to try that training exercise from before. Ready?”

Faster than Benito could blink, William had him in a chokehold, and he murmured lowly in his ear, “Don't worry, this'll be painless.” While he instinctively struggled to get out, blood rushing to his ears, as his oxygen supply rapidly depleted, he heard William call out, “Hey, Ferris. Try to save Benito—if you can.” And then he felt a pressure point on his neck, and all went black.

 

~*~

 

“What...what did you...do to him!” Ferris whispered, watching in horror as Benito toppled over suddenly, William letting him drop to the sand.

William unsheathed his scimitar, his eyes stern and unyielding. This would be worth exploring. When Ferris tried to run towards them, he tossed a dirk, and it shaved off a few hairs at the end of her braids. She froze where she was, brown eyes wide. “Here's the deal, Ferris,” William said slowly. “Benito's just knocked out for now, but he needs medical attention. Obviously, I'm in your way.” He drew his scimitar up, and pointed it at her, letting her draw her bronze blade hastily. “What will you do?”

“Have you gone mad?” she said in that same shocked, breathless tone of voice. “Is he...dead?”

“You can find out after you defeat me,” William said casually, noting how serious she was. Ferris was shocked, her eyes raw-looking. Then he attacked.

It was nothing like earlier. Ferris parried the first few strikes with a kind of mute horror, then with a kind of panic, she started to strike back with a kind of feverish, determined vigor. The blows were light, but there were many of them, and it felt like William was being assaulted from all directions by air pressure pockets. He dodged as many of them as he could, but some of them made their mark and drew blood.

Ferris feinted to the right, trying to run towards Benito again, pulling back, wincing in pain at the sight of William bleeding, but he ducked under a defensive slash, and stepped firmly in the way once more. “You'll have to beat me before you can see if Benito's all right,” he panted.

The girl looked on the edge of tears as she ducked and rolled out of the way of his scimitar. “It's all a trick, isn't it?! Benito's fine, and you're...you're just testing me!” She successfully cleaved his buckler into pieces, and his wrist twisted. Wincing, he shook off the remnants of the buckler—his wrist must be sprained now—and continued to attack fiercely with his good hand. “Please, William, just tell me the truth!”

He kicked her in the chest, and she stumbled backwards, and their blades collided. “Because, Ferris,” he said, gritting his teeth in her pale face, looking straight into those rounded eyes, “this is a war. And if I can't get you to take practice seriously, then what about when you're actually in a battle? What will you do then?”

“I'll fight with everything I have then! But I don't want anyone to get—” 

He hit her in the solar plexus with a shoulder, knocking the wind out of her, but somehow Ferris was able to block another scimitar strike with her buckler. She trembled with exhaustion, and William pushed the blade against the flimsy material with as much strength as he could manage. “That's a luxury that you won't have in battle, Ferris,” he breathed. “I may have just maimed Benito—” Ferris' face went still, “—and you're worried about whether _I'm_ okay? I see how little you think of a man who helped save your life,” he taunted. 

Bingo.

It was like the world had suddenly crashed into slow motion, as things faded, and he fought against it, hard, but in the end, everything went black for William. 

 

~*~

 

Benito opened his eyes, his body a little sore and being shaken, but he was relatively pain-free. A worried blonde-haired girl was gazing down at him, tears running down her face. “Are you all right, Benito?” she asked, and her breath hitched, as she let out a sob. The sun was starting to rise once more, the sky starting to lighten.

“No need for tears,” he chuckled, getting up. Then his eyes widened as he took in the sight around him. 

There was signs of a fight, which Benito had expected. What he didn't expect was William sprawled on the sand, unconscious, bleeding from multiple cuts. 

“He—” Ferris shivered, “Please forgive me.”

Benito looked into her watery eyes, red-rimmed. “For what? We've done this before, you know.” Ferris blinked. “He's knocked me unconscious using a pressure point. Harmless, really. He's tested some new recruits to see how quickly they respond to someone in trouble. Evidently, you passed with flying colors.” 

Hiccuping, she shook her head, and almost inaudibly she whispered, “I think I killed him.”

 

~~**~~


	3. Book I.  World of Sand - 3.  Between Missions

 

4\. Infiltrating the Gunboss

_ _   
Benito, after the initial wave of panic welled up, forced it back down. He quickly got to his feet, ignoring the initial weakness of being knocked unconscious, and dashed over to William's body. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that his superior was still breathing, despite some of the nasty cuts. He lifted an eyelid, and realized what was amiss.

Ferris had wiped away the tears, her face still worried. “Is he—”

He had to laugh at the expression on her face. She really did think she had killed him. “You used magic, right?”

“Yeah,” she looked at the ground, ashamed. “It just...happened! I didn't mean for it to...am I going to have to walk the plank?”

“No, no, no,” Benito reassured her. “He's in a magically-induced slumber.” She gave him a blank look. “You cast a sleeping spell on him, Ferris. He'll wake up given time, or until somebody wakes him.” His whiskers twitched. “Though I'm inclined to let him sleep it off. Those wounds you gave him look pretty painful.” The gray cat looked his injuries over. Some shallow cuts that looked like they had been warning blows, and a sprained wrist on William's shield arm.

Ferris let out a soft sigh, which sounded close to a sob. “He's all right?”

“He'll be fine after a few days,” Benito said, tapping her on the shoulder, trying to get her attention. “I'll send a firecracker up and get Silver or someone out here. The medics will bring a stretcher, and we can bring William back in.” He smiled soothingly. “Ferris,” he said, waiting until her eyes locked back on his. “Don't worry. He's been hit with much, much worse magic.”

 

~*~

“Training accident?” Oliver said incredulously to a chuckling Silver and an awed Rachel. “That Ferris character took out William with a sleeping spell?” He whistled lowly, thinking to himself. “She just may be useful to the Bloodhook then!” His green eyes glowed with enthusiasm, long white tail practically wagging. 

“Think of the possibilities...” Rachel suggested as they sat at the table in the brig, she fiddling with a wooden chess piece thoughtfully, “We could have her lead a raid into the Gunboss, hit everyone who crosses her path with a sleeping spell, and kidnap their healer Musil or even that bastard Chavez himself!” 

Silver shrugged, not really interested in the conversation. “I'm more interested in seeing what else she can do. And Rachel,” he added, “We've already  got people who can cast sleeping spells in Bloodhook. The Gunboss' healer has a powder that can give immunities to magically-induced sleep.” Rachel drooped at having her suggestion shot down. “Why did someone of Ferris' potential show up now at such a vital junction in this war?”

Oliver's eyes darkened. “You may be right. Let me tell you something I heard from the higher-ups.” His voice dropped down to almost-inaudible, but with Bragg's wooden cup was pressed to the wall, beyond the guard's room and he could manage to eke out, “Matoya said we aren't to interfere with anything that Ferris does.”

“Um,” Rachel said uncertainly, “aren't we right now doing  just  that?”

Silver growled, “Do you listen to that crazy witch's opinion over your own comrades and captain?”

“Point,” muttered Rachel.

“We'd be stupid not to take advantage of such an opportunity,” Oliver continued. “And if we play our cards right, the girl can do our work for us.”

“I get it,” Rachel said, eyes glittering. “We'll just give the girl impossible tasks. If she succeeds, we can take the credit. If she fails, she can take the blame.”

Silver was silent, but Oliver nodded, grimly satisfied. “You've got it.”

Bragg placed his wooden cup down, frowning.

 

~*~

William was sitting under a beach umbrella, sitting quietly at a table covered with lace, eating some porgy, which he much preferred over the sardines that he had been chowing down on as of late. The weather was just how he liked it, dry and hot without too much sun; after all, he liked heat, but he did not like the sun too much—having black fur had its disadvantages. 

The porgy was just how he liked, charcoal-broiled, with a hint of hickory smoke flavor, and a mango and tomato salsa with mint. He was something of an epicure; in contrast to the kitten Victory, who also loved to eat, his palate was far more discerning. William had probably took the loss of Bullminch the worst out of all the cats aboard the Bloodhook. He liked his steaks rare with a blue cheese crumble, his omelets perfectly shaped, and his pasta's texture  al dente , damn it. 

Was it really so damn hard to fry a fish with crispy exterior and a tender interior? For Goddess' sake.

William was painfully brought back to reality as he felt, more than saw, blonde hair tickling his arm, and a powerful burning warmth surge through his wrist. He opened his eyes to a heart-shaped face looking at him with curiosity, and he leapt back, alarmed, but furry paws held him down, keeping him from jolting his wrist. He gasped, but the warmth faded, leaving his wrist feeling like it wasn't going to explode in pain. 

“Who the—” he croaked. Calico, grinning widely, handed him a bottle of water. 

“You've been out for a couple hours.” Turning to Benito, Silver, and Ferris, the last lowering her faintly glowing hands, Calico turned to the girl, saying, “That spell wasn't bad for an amateur.”

Ferris looked embarrassed. William, swallowing the water, rasped, “Well, I can guess who won  that . I must be rusty if I got knocked unconscious for that long, though.” His sharp incisor pressed into his lip, and he added, “It was totally painless for me. How the hell did you manage to accomplish that?” He looked pointedly at the responsible person, and she swallowed.

Benito slapped him on his good arm, and William just shot him a look that said, 'don't touch the merchandise.' Ferris cleared her throat once, then twice. “Sleeping spell,” she said almost inaudibly.

Silver was staring at Ferris with fascination, looking as if he wanted to ask a question, but was looking for the best way to phrase it. William muttered, eying Ferris with an arched whisker, “Well, that'll teach me to push an unknown opponent too far, too fast.” He sighed, scratching the back of his black ear. “I...apologize.”

“But...” Ferris said. 

William grumbled, “This doesn't mean that we're buddies, but at least I trust you to watch my back in battle. Because you could've killed me.” His eyes stared into hers, considering. “But you didn't.”

“Why would I?” Ferris asked, her brow knitting in curiosity.

Benito put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We're all paranoid bastards after all the fighting and backstabbing of former mates.” The girl nodded slowly.

Alvilda appeared at the door of the infirmary, her back ramrod straight, and zeroed in on Calico. “Is my second-in-command back in one piece?” 

“I'm fine, Alvilda,” William answered, getting out of the hammock that he had been in, Calico immediately bristling. “Don't go mother hen on me, Calico, it was just a sprained wrist.”

“But—where are you taking him? He needs at least a few hours, Sergeant!” Calico growled.

Alvilda grimly shook her hand. “We're short in the mines. And there's an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” Calico demanded, but William was already putting on his pack. 

Alvilda said shortly, “I'm sorry, Calico, that's classified.” Looking back, her eyes darkened. She looked at William's wrist, saying, “You did a good job on that, Calico.”

Calico's mouth became a set line. “ I didn't heal him. Ferris did.”

“ What ?” Alvilda snapped. “She's the one who injured him!” 

Benito was about to come to Ferris' defense, but William cut in. “Enough, Alvilda,” he said. She jerked her head back towards him, surprised.

“What?” she said again. 

“Now you're just repeating yourself,” he said dryly. “I'm ready, what about you?”

The tabby, shaking her head, said, “Yeah. I'll keep you from doing any heavy lifting of any kind. And you're to stay off the front lines.”

William nodded curtly, and the two left the infirmary.

After a moment watching the two leave, Silver turned back to a silent Ferris, saying, “Private Ferris, Sixpack has requested to speak to you after you were done your business here. It's about your first mission.”

“Really?” Ferris asked. She was solemnly looking where William had departed. “I'll get to that now. Thanks—” she looked at him speculatively. “Silver, right?”

Silver blinked. “You remembered my name?”

Ferris smiled at him, nodding, and departed. 

Silver, somewhat taken aback, turned to Benito, clearing his throat. “So. William really knows how to handle Alvilda, doesn't he?” he joked, “you could learn a thing or two from that.”

Benito rubbed his forehead, grinning to himself. 

Then Calico screamed at them, “I need bandages, chop chop!” and they went back to work, tending to the wounded.

 

~*~

 

Margaret was reading a manual on scimitar-play while leaning against a pillar in the corridor when she spotted Ferris coming out of Sixpack's office, or rather, the inventory room. Ferris was preoccupied, her brow furrowed in thought, clutching a manila envelope, and Margaret called out to her, “Hey.”

Ferris looked up, her mouth turning upward. “Hey. Whatcha reading?”

The young kitten pointed to the title of the book on the cover which read,  Proper Sword Exercises for the Younger Set . Ferris remained silent, her brow still furrowed. “Um.”

“What's the matter?” Margaret said, joking, she gestured with her paw for the girl to come closer. “If you can't see...” Ferris stayed in place, suddenly looking down and away at her feet. Margaret came up, and said uncertainly, trying to joke, “Can't read?”

Ferris remained silent, her cheeks red, and Margaret went silent. The girl was certainly older than her, but strangely, while things like magic and swordplay came to Ferris naturally which were foreign matters to the kitten in hands-on experience, Ferris didn't know a thing about friendship, or basic foods, and now she couldn't read? Unlike many of their differences, one thing the Gunboss and Bloodhook shared was similar views on the importance of educating their youth, and everyone was taught reading and writing, if only to learn how to read maps, coded messages, and training manuals. 

It made Margaret wonder what kind of amnesia could leave a person so completely bereft. And it made her a little sad too.

Her eyes soft with compassion, she tapped the blonde girl on the nose, who looked up then. “Hey. I can teach you how to read.”

“I can't,” Ferris said quietly. 

“Why?” she pressed. 

“I'm leaving on a mission soon.” 

Margaret frowned. “But you'll come back, right?”

She shrugged, her face lined with worry. “I hope so.”

The kitten felt a clench in her gut. Surely General Sixpack wouldn't have given a recruit anything  too  dangerous? She had been living in the stalemate for most of her life, and hadn't had anyone close to her die, thank Goddess. Smiling brightly, she said, “You will.”

Ferris looked at her briefly, and carefully tapped her on the nose back, to which Margaret giggled. “Yeah,” she said. It was if that one smile had filled her with confidence. “I've got to get ready.”

“And I can teach you how to read when you return!” the kitten announced decisively. 

Ferris smiled finally and said, “I can't wait.”

 

~*~

 

Bragg stirred at the dim lamp shining in his face, and looked up, to the sound of soft snoring from the cell next to him. It was around sunset now. There was a grumpy Oliver, who was peering down at him. “Visitor,” he said curtly. Ferris was standing there, in the white clothes that she had been found in, freshly laundered. Her bronze blade was buckled to her belt, and she had a buckler on her wrist. Over her skirt and shirt were leather armors. Oliver watched as Bragg stirred from his hammock, and got up to go to the bars of the cage. “No funny business this time,” he warned Ferris sternly, who nodded in response. The light bobbed away, back down the corridor, and Oliver resumed playing chess with a guard, one that Bragg didn't know the name of.

“Did I heal everything from last time?” Ferris asked, her voice low.

“I'm fine,” he grinned at her. “Did you get into a lot of trouble with Sixpack?”

She shook her head, tucking loose blonde hair back. “No. The general didn't give me any problems in that regard. I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

Bragg looked at her, realization dawning on him with a jerk. “You're leaving?”

“My first mission,” answered Ferris. She looked down the corridor when Oliver swore fiercely, having lost one of his rooks. 

“Of what?”

“It's a secret!” she said, winking. “The official purpose of the mission is that I'm to only find a way into the Gunboss. They even gave me back my crystal.”

Bragg's whiskers immediately lifted, very interested in now. So Oliver had already set his machinations into motion. He didn't know what he could do from his position here. Probably not much. Mentally he asked himself:  how can I keep Ferris out of trouble?  Then he hit upon a solution.

“Ferris,” he said very softly, “listen to me very carefully. The cat in the cell next to me is a Gunboss prisoner-of-war. If you try to get into the Gunboss from the front entrance, they won't recognize you, and will probably throw you out, if not kill you or jail you in  their brig.” Bragg winked back at her then. “That guy over there talks in his sleep sometimes. And he's let slip that there's a secret entrance to the Gunboss that not even most of the Gunboss know.”

“Where?” Ferris mouthed.

Bragg shrugged. “That will be your task to find out,” he whispered. He saw a light coming down the corridor. Looks like we're out of time.”

Oliver had come back, thoroughly annoyed now that he had formally lost the chess game he had been playing. “Your time is up,” he said to Ferris. His eyes lidded, as he looked at her, he added, “Do your best on the mission, private.” Only Bragg caught the malice in his eye, but he could say nothing.

 

~*~

 

Just after the burning sun set into the horizon, the first thing Ferris did was make sure that she was far, far away from any prying eyes. Or at least, attempted to. She did notice that there  was someone following her for some distance; from underneath the sound of the occasional breeze, and the cawing of a crow out there, she heard very deliberate, purposeful steps being taken. There was great care taken to make sure that they were unheard, but Ferris could sense the presence behind her. 

Finally, she stopped where she was walking, and not bothering to turn around, she said, “I don't think you're trying to hurt me, but you've been following me since I left the Bloodhook.” She quickly thought back to who out of the Bloodhook would want to see her fail the most, and happened to have a very heavy weapon—oh. “Alvilda? Is that you?”

From behind a sand dune emerged the tabby, covered with a lot of sand. Shaking it off with annoyance, she said, “How did  you  know?” Ferris hoisted the crystal out of her pocket, and pointed at it, which was letting off a warm, comforting hum, and then the light it was emitting concentrated, and pointed squarely into Alvilda's orange-furred chest. The tabby batted at it irritably, saying, “Hey, turn that thing off!” Ferris acquiesced, placing it back into the folds of her skirt, and the light faded slightly. “I guess you weren't lying about  that ,” Alvilda said. “And you are heading to the Gunboss.” She frowned slightly, chewing her lip.

There were a few tense moments, then Ferris asked, “Is there a problem? I'm doing as Sixpack ordered.” A pause. “Um, how come you aren't still in the mines?”

“I was reassigned,” she bit out, and a stiff silence proceeded. At last, Alvilda shrugged carelessly, and looked at Ferris straight in the eyes. “I've still got my eye on you, stranger. I don't trust you any further than I can throw you.” 

“You look fairly strong. I bet you could throw me pretty far,” Ferris said blankly.

Alvilda was about to snarl some nasty rebuttal, but quickly calmed herself. “Forget it,” she said angrily. “but if I catch you swapping secrets with some fellow traitor, I'm not going to let you off easy.” With that, she stomped back towards the Bloodhook, giving Ferris a good view of the infamous battle-axe strapped to her back. 

 

~*~

 

When she had arrived in this world of sand, Ferris had been heading to the spot where her crystal was pointing with a beam of light, but just as something had appeared on the horizon, the crystal started to hum to indicate something that intended harm, and the murder of crows had appeared. Clumsily, Ferris had unsheathed her sword as quickly as her inexperience allowed, and though it was heavier than she expected, she had managed to beat back some of them. 

There were too many of them, though, and when one dived and cut open her hand, causing thin lines of blood to appear, she felt...something within her...respond. It was the only way she could describe it, and with some concentration she directed that looming power inside her to emerge, and the blood that had beaded up remained, staining her white linen, but the wound closed with a rush of cooling warmth. She hadn't known what it was then, this power, but now she did:  magic .

So awed she was by this mystery that she wasn't paying attention when another dive-bombed her scalp, and she had been knocked unconscious. The rest, as they say, was history.

Megami had never mentioned that she was magically capable. When Ferris was in the infirmary with Calico after seeing Sixpack, she had asked her who were the other people around here who could use magic. 

The doctor had blinked at the unexpected question, but had shrugged. “Oh, it's an uncommon gift, but there are some left that still can cast spells. Most people out there can only manage to cast a fire or healing spell or three. Ferris could tell that Calico wanted to press her for more information, but when Ferris bit her lip, realizing that  I think that power I felt was capable of quite a bit more than that , she didn't feel comfortable disclosing  that . 

“Though,” Calico paused. “We do have an older witch that lives in the lighthouse not far from here. She's supposed to be able to brew some good magical potions. Nobody knows the extent of her powers—she hardly ever comes out.” Ferris' curiosity was piqued, but she just nodded.

When Alvilda had been out of sight, and Ferris was deep within the cave that she had discovered among a pile of rocks, north from the Bloodhook. One wouldn't have known to look for it at all, unless one had been told about it.

Ferris settled in at the front entrance, experimenting around with her magic, not wanting a repeat of something unexpected happening— like William , she thought grimly to herself—testing the power within herself. She knew she could heal minor wounds, and probably stronger ones, when she grew stronger and more sure of herself. 

She shut her eyes, drawing a deep breath, and cleared her mind of everything but concentrating on that power. A power unlike others, a gift that few had...she began to shiver a little, when she felt the tendrils of coldness spread from her hand, burning worse than fire, then she released that uncontrolled sensation...that  power . 

When Ferris opened her eyes, they widened when she saw that she had covered the wall and part of the floor with a thick coat of ice. It was a much stronger spell than the one she had cast back when Sixpack had asked her to demonstrate back in his office. He'd actually had a soldier toss a knife at her to try to psyche her into reacting by instinct. It worked. Without thinking, Ferris had halted the trajectory of the knife with a glance, and it dropped to the ground harmlessly with a clink—sheathed in ice. 

Ferris stared at the ice-coated wall, thinking silently that she must be getting stronger. She shrugged, turning to leave, when she screamed. A skeleton emerged from the other corridor, charging towards her. Backing up, and fumbling with her hilt, she was given a few moments' reprieve when the skeleton tripped and fell to the ground when it ran over the ice. 

Hiding a giggle, the bronze blade was unsheathed with a scraping sound, and swung forward to meet the pirate scimitar, causing sparks to leap between the two blades. Pushing hard against the unnatural strength of the wielder of the scimitar, Ferris neatly turned, her braids swinging, switching her grip, and clouted the skeleton with the back of her sheath. It staggered and fell back, taking a few steps to regain its balance, and charged forward once more.

It was a skilled opponent, and though she had a slight advantage in being faster, it was stronger. The blonde girl and the skeleton continued to wield their blades against each other in the cramped darkness of the cave, and Ferris more than once scraped the end of her sword against the dirt walls. The trouble with this duel was that while she tired, the skeleton did not. At last, she chanted quietly under her breath, and with a hiss, she released the spell, and the skeleton slumped, falling asleep. 

Panting to catch her breath, Ferris wiped some sweat from her forehead, brushing some blonde hair out of her eyes. "Didn't think that would work," she muttered. "I guess even the undead have to sleep every once in a while." Quickly, she planted a firm kick into the center of the skeleton's chest, and it came apart, shattering into bone fragments.

Sighing with relief, she examined the sword it had been swinging at her, and, noticing that it was of finer quality than her bronze blade, she picked it up. Then as she was turning to go deeper into the cave, she skidded on a part of the ice-slicked floor.

"Ow," she grumbled. "So much for making a good exit."

 

~*~

 

Pinkhead sighed as he hoisted his mallet, working steadily at hammering out a new pirate knife, swiping at his pink bandanna. Blacksmithing was definitely not one of his strengths, not to mention he was making weapons to be used against his own side. He did try to create a few defective ones every once in a while to his assuage his guilty conscience, but it did little good, now that he found himself increasingly troubled by what he was doing to the Gunboss, which he knew almost better than his own Bloodhook at this point.

When a blonde girl emerged from the furnace, asking, “Are you Pinkhead? I'm Ferris,” the cat, his nerves already on edge, dropped the mallet he had been wielding in utter shock. Onto his foot. The leather boot he was wearing did little to lessen the impact of the blow.

"MeOWOW!" he yelled, hopping back and forth on his good foot, hollering in pain. The girl made a small noise of surprise and approached, stooping down to the injured foot. She chanted lowly, and his foot warmed, and the pain, slowly, but surely, began to fade.

"Pinkhead?" called out Giovanna, her voice echoing in the adjacent hall. Ferris blinked, and Pinkhead quickly regained his bearings. The blue cat grabbed Ferris, and shoved her back into the unused furnace, before she could so much as say anything. The gray cat poked her head into the forge, and asked, "Did you hurt yourself or something?"

"Uh..." Pinkhead stuttered. "Just, ah, dropped the mallet on my toe." Before Giovanna could step inside his work area, he said, "Uh, wait! I used a little of my potion, I'm fine."

Giovanna eyed him. "Are you sure you should be using it on such a minor injury? Musil's going to have kittens over you wasting potions like that."

"It was not minor, and you know Musil can't have kittens, he's a boy," huffed Pinkhead. "If you want to see my blackened nail with my bloodstained shoe, you're welcome to come in.”

"Augh, spare me the gory details!" Giovanna said, paling. "I just wanted to see if you were all right." She quickly left, leaving Pinkhead sighing inwardly with relief. Giovanna could barely stand the sight of blood, let alone mangled body parts.

Once her footsteps faded from earshot, the girl from the furnace murmured. "Um, can I come out now? You really ought to clean in here more often; it's awful dusty. A bit warm too."

"Oh, sorry!" Pinkhead turned...well, pink in the cheeks, and hurried to help the young woman out.

The blue cat examined her closely. She was a slender girl, but her clothes made her appear larger than she was. They were normally a glowing white from what he could discern from under all that soot._H_e felt a bit abashed at having shoved this Ferris back into the furnace. At least it was unlit.

"I'm presuming you're from the Bloodhook?" Pinkhead gestured to the secret passage that led from the outside to the Gunboss. "You found out about this passage. The only people who are supposed to know about this passage from ou—the Gunboss are myself and the captain."

“You'd be surprised at the rumors people start,” The girl grinned, coughing a little. “I guess this would count as a security breach.” She coughed again.

The blue cat asked, “Want some water?” but the girl shrugged him off, looking at the small warm room, neatly-kept, the bed made, covered with a clashing patchwork quilt. She asked, "And you're Pinkhead, right?" He looked surprised, and she grinned, her teeth white against her charcoal-smudged skin. "They said to look out for your pink bandanna." He felt himself smiling, adjusting said bandanna against his sweaty fur.

Pinkhead said, "I don't recognize you, though."

"I'm a newcomer," she explained, as she wiped soot off her skirt. "They just recruited me a few days ago—name's Ferris, like I said. They sent me on this mission to test me."

"Hmm, they usually don't send out someone as green as you on something like this," Pinkhead said, his eyes tired, his head bowed. "We must be getting desperate. Do you have a message for me?” The girl nodded, drawing out a folded piece of paper, handing it to him. He quickly opened it and read the coded message. It read as followed:

_ Bi hir rptqr rpo foqqohmop ghy stpreop regh yit ngh retiw eop. Qeo lq ihdy g vopy jiwopstd jgwh, utr quldd g jgwh. Qohb wlre eop yitp pojipu, nibeb gq relq iho wgq._

Wearily, he quickly translated it by sight, having been so practiced with the code, and it left him slightly aghast. “Do not trust the messenger any further than you can throw her. She is a very powerful pawn, but still a pawn. Send her your report, coded as this one was.” It was surprisingly brief, considering that there had been no communications for almost a year. He felt a brief flash of anger; what, no inquiries of how  _he_ was? But this was war, after all. 

Pinkhead stared at the girl, and the girl stared back. They were back hiring mercenaries again? How badly  _was _ the war effort going? He also felt a slight distaste on relying on people that the upper echelons obviously didn't trust. He had to ask. “Did you read this message?” he asked her.

She looked away, as if embarrassed; he knew from being a spy all these years, after all. “I can't read.”

Frowning to cover his surprise, he asked her, “You can't?”

Ferris cocked her head, not able to keep the happy tone in her voice as she said, “But somebody said they'd teach me when I get back.”

“Oh,” was all Pinkhead could manage. He hadn't met very many people like her kind, but she seemed...stranger than the run-of-the-mill. There was something definitely off about her. She didn't seem too bad, but the 'powerful pawn' comment left him slightly ill. She was obviously magically adept, but from the reading of her body language...it was a confusing combination, and he would need more time with this Ferris to get a better grip on her.

But now was not the time. He went to his bed, and taking out from underneath the cushion his report, looking it over. He hurriedly added a few additional sentences, and handed it to Ferris. Biting his lip, he asked. "How is...everyone? Sixpack, and..." he broke off his sentence, feeling glum. Sure, he had been spying on Gunboss for...was it three years now? While he missed the crew of the Bloodhook, he felt himself identifying a great deal with the Gunboss, and when he thought about leaving them to betray them, he felt queasy.

She bent down to where he had stooped by his bedside, and smiled comfortingly. "There were no casualties in the last scuffle, as far as I know. Sixpack told me to tell you that directly." Pinkhead sighed inwardly with relief, and looked back at Ferris. "Also, from a personal standpoint, Sixpack is all right too, if somewhat worn." Pinkhead knew that he should have been more careful with his words. The message _had _said not to trust her.

The blue cat shook his head, feeling pretty worn himself. "You'll get that back to him as soon as you can, right?"

"Yes."

Ferris crawled back into the furnace to leave, and Pinkhead brushed some soot from his face. The stuff was making his eyes water.

 

~*~

 

Two days later, back on the the Bloodhook, Ferris popped her head into William and Benito's bunk, singing, "Benny!" The black cat snorted at the affectionate name, while Benito growled and threw a pillow at her.

"Don't call me that," he said good-naturedly, but without sharpness.

She sat on one of the crates that they had in the room, which tripled as a table and chair, clutching the pillow to her chest. "Whatcha doing?"

They were moving around different pieces of carved wood on a black and white checkered board, some black, others white. They were of varying heights, each carved differently, and Ferris noticed when they moved the pieces around, they moved them in different patterns. It all looked very complicated and taxing on the mental faculties.

"Never seen a game of chess before, kid?" He offered her a cup of catnip beer, which Ferris refused. "What, don't like it?"

"It's okay, but I don't drink anyway," the girl replied.

Benito snorted into his drink. "Maybe you just haven't had enough."

Ferris smiled, watching William take Benito's knight with a rook with fascination. "I don't want to get stinking drunk while I'm on the job anyway." The black cat stared up at her with curiosity, and she explained. "Sixpack gave me a second mission." She held aloft a rank insignia...for Gunboss. "This'll let me get into Gunboss freely."

"I bet Alvilda _loved _that," Benito laughed.

The blonde girl bit her lip thoughtfully. "Is there a reason why she's so suspicious of me? Calico, as tough as she is, doesn't seem to have given me as hard a time as she does."

"Bah," Benito snorted again, "Alvilda's been in this war for too long, while Calico is an old softie at heart." He sipped some beer. "If the doc likes you right off the bat like she did with you, it's smooth sailing from there."

William smiled, his knight taking another of Benito's pawns, to a chorus of his colorful swearing. "Benito's been trying to get into Alvilda's pants since he arrived. She's a smart and tough cat, though, and is on to him."

Benito pouted and sighed mournfully, “C'mon, give me a little credit here. Been lovesick for her for a year, didn't you say so yourself, William?”

While William let out a soft sigh in acknowledgment, Ferris said, confused, "Why Alvilda? Isn't she almost ten years older than you?"

There was a pause, and then William cracked a smile, the most expressive thing Ferris had seen on his face since she had met him, and even the subject of the joke, Benito, couldn't help but blush.

"True love defies age boundaries," William said with a straight face. Benito cracked up when William added, "And Benito is under the impression that women age like fine wine." The black cat snorted in derision.

Ferris, not quite sure what to make of this comment, abruptly changed tacks. "So...chess," she began. "Could you teach me how to play?"

"As much as I'd like to, I've got guard duty coming up," sighed Benito, and he grumbled when William finally checkmated him with his queen.

William looked up at Ferris, slight smile on his face. "I'll teach you, I've got the evening shift."

Ferris said bluntly, "You look like the better player anyway."

"Gee, thanks," grumbled Benito. "Though you are absolutely right on that count. I suck at all this strategy stuff. Definitely into preemptive strikes."

"Hmm?" Ferris asked.

"Get them before they get you," William explained. "And that's a terrible strategy in some cases, because what if they come in peace?"

The gray cat shook his head. "Don't overthink the game, William. Of _course _they're out to capture your king."

"I was referring to the war, not..." he gestured to the wooden chess pieces and board, "this _game_." He scowled, falling silent.

Benito sighed, picking up his scimitar. "Well, there is that." He took his leave then, saying, "I bid you cats adieu."

"So how do you play?" asked Ferris, thumping down on the crate that Benito had been previously occupying. She was still clutching the pillow that had been thrown at her, her face screwed up in concentration.

William scratched his chin, wondering where to begin. "Well, we might as throw you right into the deep end." He quickly ran through the basic maneuvers that each piece could perform, and threw in the castling. First, he set up a game, and was surprised to see that Ferris, upon careful thought, was able to prevent herself from being checkmated in four moves. She lasted quite a bit longer than most beginners, forming a pawn barricade, and buying herself some time, but the eventual lack of experience caught up with her, and eventually, William was able to checkmate her.

Nodding, he said, after she carefully examined how he had done it, "You sure put a lot more thought into playing than most other people."

Ferris was thoughtful. "I don't know. The knights, I kind of see as a waste. I mean, they seem more fodder than actual pieces. Even pawns I get more mileage out of."

William cocked his head, intrigued. "Yeah, most people see it like that, because knights are so difficult to use. They move in a rather strange pattern unlike the other pieces. But it's precisely because their movements are more difficult to understand is why they are useful." Ferris blinked, and looked at him. "Say, let's do a puzzle." He arranged the white pawns onto the board in a series, and handing her a black knight, saying, "Capture all the white pawns with this one knight."

The blonde girl frowned, taking the knight, and looked at the board. After seeing the pattern, she cleared the board of all the pawns, capturing them all. "But that's a very special case," she said to William. "It's not always that clear cut to see how a knight can be useful in a situation."

William showed his teeth at her. "While the example isn't perfect, do you understand what I mean? In a war, you're given a set of troops, each with unique attributes. Some seem more useful than the others, but in order to increase your chances of success, only a foolhardy commander would fail to press every advantage he has, no matter how strange the cat was." Then he stopped his lecture, his face suddenly softening. It was quiet for a few moments, as he shook his head to himself, looking rueful. “Ferris, do you want to play another game?”

She shook her head, getting up. “I promised to meet Margaret when I got back. She—” Ferris was clearly blushing. “Well, it's a secret too.”

William eyed her, asking, “Good or bad?”

“Nah, she's just going to teach me stuff,” she quickly bowed, her pigtails bouncing. “I'll see you after I complete mission two!”

He nodded, smiling genuinely at her for the first time. “Keep up the good work. Private Rachel's been asking about you.”  
“Thanks, William!”

After she'd left, he could hear the patter of paws on the deck in the shadows of the room across the hall. “Sergeant, I do wish you'd stop spying on her.”

There was no response other than the scraping of a battle-axe against the door.

 

~*~

 

_They're the enemy_, Pinkhead kept telling himself as he was drinking himself under the table at Gunboss' fine bar. Musil and Giovanna had detected his sour mood, and being the good cats they were, kept him company, occasionally making sure he wasn't imbibing more than he could handle. _They were decent cats, good buddies._ Which made what he was doing even worse.

_Even if they were good cats, they're not fellow cats of yours. They're...fighting against your side—only for the same reasons that you are—to defend the ones that they care about, the precious land and resources that Gunboss had taken._ Even so, wasn't _their _side the _right _side? What did this war start over again? He had forgotten. He shook his head angrily in the noisy bar. His thoughts were becoming circuitous. Morosely, he took a sip of his black beer.

Then promptly spat it back it out when Ferris walked into the bar.

 

~*~

 

"Ya recognize her?" asked Musil, noticing the unusual reaction. Giovanna started clapping him on the back, as Pinkhead coughed and sputtered.

"Yeah..." he hacked, watching as the tall blonde girl chatted it up with the bartender, asking about the war and how things were going on the Gunboss...Pinkhead shook his head, attempting to clear it. Sixpack must've sent her back to gather intelligence on her own. He didn't know how she got in through the front entrance, and bypass security like that. Whatever the reason, it made him wonder what the hell he should do now.

"Why not invite her over?" said a voice in his ear. The blue cat nearly leapt out of his fur. Pinkhead looked over, watching Ferris nod and listen to the bartender's conversation patiently. Giovanna grinned mirthfully. "You know how loquacious Bart can get."

Pinkhead wondered to himself how good Ferris was at playing the double-agent, and thought it might not be a good idea to try to outwit two bona fide members of the Gunboss. But as he took another draught of his beer, he secretly wondered what _would _happen. It'd probably be all right, as long as Ferris wasn't too drunk. He could just shut up. "Suuure," he slurred slightly, and blinked. He wasn't that far along, was he?

"Good, good!" pronounced Musil, and when Ferris finished talking to Bart, he waved her over, "Hey, newbie? How's it goin'? How do you like the Gunboss so far?"

Ferris smiled eagerly and came over, waving a greeting. "Hello."

"What's your name?" asked Giovanna. She eyed Pinkhead meaningfully, and said jokingly, "We'd ask him, but the moment he saw you, he spat out his beer, so we were wondering if you were an ex-girlfriend or something." The blue cat shot her a withering glare.

"Hey everyone, 's Ferris. This is Musil and Giovanna, Ferris." Pinkhead blinked stupidly.

The girl giggled. "We first met in the forge a few days ago."

Musil looked her over, asking, "He didn't mention you."

"I'm that green," responded Ferris. She looked around in awe at the bar. "You guys have a lot to drink." She admired the many different bottle of wine and beer and hard liquors that surrounded her in the darkened bar, the lights dim enough that the cats' eyes were luminous. Ferris' eyes didn't seem to be able to adjust as well. "Sure is dark in here."

"Bart takes pride in hiiiis...st-sto—stuff." said Pinkhead.

Ferris looked over at him, concerned. "Is he all right?"

"He's been a little down today, for some reason," Giovanna spared him a concerned look. "We can't seem to get the reason out of him. Hence, he's drowning his sorrows in ale."

The girl looked down at the wood table, covered in mug circles. "Hmm..."

Bart sidled up to the table. "Hey, girl, here's your sparkling grape juice." He put the drink, on the rocks, onto the table. "On the house."

"Uh?" Ferris asked, her eyes round. "Um. Thanks."

Musil grinned, "Sparkling grape _juice_? What's wrong, you a teetotaler?" Giovanna smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Not everybody's an alcoholic like _you_, Musil."

Ferris shrugged.

Pinkhead, snapping out of it, stared. "You sure? Stuff's fizzy and stroonggg."

"It is?" the girl blinked bewilderedly.

Giovanna chortled, and Musil's scarred, white face split into a grin. "Ignore 'im. Pinkhead's so drunk that he's going to trip over his own tail when he leaves here, mark my words."

Pinkhead shook his head, bemused, despite himself. "At least I don't make a habit of this, Musil."

Giovanna asked, "So. How'd you get to be here, Ferris? We're kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

The blue cat stiffened. "Guys, don't pry into her private business."

Ferris put down the bubbly drink, giggling as the fizziness tickled her mouth, shoving it back and forth on the counter, thinking. "I'll tell you," she said slowly. "If you guys tell me about how you got here."

"Sure," said Musil, sipping on his own fire scotch. "I'll tell you, it's nothing special, but sure."

"Do we have time to tell the life stories of four people in one night?" sighed Pinkhead. "Don't you two have shift tomorrow?" He eyed Musil and Giovanna

"Weelll..." murmured Ferris thoughtfully. "Maybe not."

"Now, you've got _me _curious," complained Giovanna.

"We can certainly try. Beats just getting drunk all right," said Musil.

Giovanna added, "And my life story's not terribly exciting. It'll take all of two minutes to explain."

Pinkhead could see no reason to stop Ferris, and all he had to do was make sure nothing about the Bloodhook would fall from her lips that would compromise either his or her position when she spoke. He frowned. And it was actually a good opportunity to see what other information he could glean from these Gunboss soldiers.

He felt his stomach flip, and refused to think of it as guilt.

Ferris nodded, pushing aside her glass of sparkling grape juice. "Who wants to go first?"

 

~~**~~


	4. Book I.  World of Sand - 4.  Infiltrating the Gunboss

 

4\. Infiltrating the Gunboss

_ _   
Benito, after the initial wave of panic welled up, forced it back down. He quickly got to his feet, ignoring the initial weakness of being knocked unconscious, and dashed over to William's body. He let out a sigh of relief when he realized that his superior was still breathing, despite some of the nasty cuts. He lifted an eyelid, and realized what was amiss.

Ferris had wiped away the tears, her face still worried. “Is he—”

He had to laugh at the expression on her face. She really did think she had killed him. “You used magic, right?”

“Yeah,” she looked at the ground, ashamed. “It just...happened! I didn't mean for it to...am I going to have to walk the plank?”

“No, no, no,” Benito reassured her. “He's in a magically-induced slumber.” She gave him a blank look. “You cast a sleeping spell on him, Ferris. He'll wake up given time, or until somebody wakes him.” His whiskers twitched. “Though I'm inclined to let him sleep it off. Those wounds you gave him look pretty painful.” The gray cat looked his injuries over. Some shallow cuts that looked like they had been warning blows, and a sprained wrist on William's shield arm.

Ferris let out a soft sigh, which sounded close to a sob. “He's all right?”

“He'll be fine after a few days,” Benito said, tapping her on the shoulder, trying to get her attention. “I'll send a firecracker up and get Silver or someone out here. The medics will bring a stretcher, and we can bring William back in.” He smiled soothingly. “Ferris,” he said, waiting until her eyes locked back on his. “Don't worry. He's been hit with much, much worse magic.”

 

~*~

“Training accident?” Oliver said incredulously to a chuckling Silver and an awed Rachel. “That Ferris character took out William with a sleeping spell?” He whistled lowly, thinking to himself. “She just may be useful to the Bloodhook then!” His green eyes glowed with enthusiasm, long white tail practically wagging. 

“Think of the possibilities...” Rachel suggested as they sat at the table in the brig, she fiddling with a wooden chess piece thoughtfully, “We could have her lead a raid into the Gunboss, hit everyone who crosses her path with a sleeping spell, and kidnap their healer Musil or even that bastard Chavez himself!” 

Silver shrugged, not really interested in the conversation. “I'm more interested in seeing what else she can do. And Rachel,” he added, “We've already  got people who can cast sleeping spells in Bloodhook. The Gunboss' healer has a powder that can give immunities to magically-induced sleep.” Rachel drooped at having her suggestion shot down. “Why did someone of Ferris' potential show up now at such a vital junction in this war?”

Oliver's eyes darkened. “You may be right. Let me tell you something I heard from the higher-ups.” His voice dropped down to almost-inaudible, but with Bragg's wooden cup was pressed to the wall, beyond the guard's room and he could manage to eke out, “Matoya said we aren't to interfere with anything that Ferris does.”

“Um,” Rachel said uncertainly, “aren't we right now doing  just  that?”

Silver growled, “Do you listen to that crazy witch's opinion over your own comrades and captain?”

“Point,” muttered Rachel.

“We'd be stupid not to take advantage of such an opportunity,” Oliver continued. “And if we play our cards right, the girl can do our work for us.”

“I get it,” Rachel said, eyes glittering. “We'll just give the girl impossible tasks. If she succeeds, we can take the credit. If she fails, she can take the blame.”

Silver was silent, but Oliver nodded, grimly satisfied. “You've got it.”

Bragg placed his wooden cup down, frowning.

 

~*~

William was sitting under a beach umbrella, sitting quietly at a table covered with lace, eating some porgy, which he much preferred over the sardines that he had been chowing down on as of late. The weather was just how he liked it, dry and hot without too much sun; after all, he liked heat, but he did not like the sun too much—having black fur had its disadvantages. 

The porgy was just how he liked, charcoal-broiled, with a hint of hickory smoke flavor, and a mango and tomato salsa with mint. He was something of an epicure; in contrast to the kitten Victory, who also loved to eat, his palate was far more discerning. William had probably took the loss of Bullminch the worst out of all the cats aboard the Bloodhook. He liked his steaks rare with a blue cheese crumble, his omelets perfectly shaped, and his pasta's texture  al dente , damn it. 

Was it really so damn hard to fry a fish with crispy exterior and a tender interior? For Goddess' sake.

William was painfully brought back to reality as he felt, more than saw, blonde hair tickling his arm, and a powerful burning warmth surge through his wrist. He opened his eyes to a heart-shaped face looking at him with curiosity, and he leapt back, alarmed, but furry paws held him down, keeping him from jolting his wrist. He gasped, but the warmth faded, leaving his wrist feeling like it wasn't going to explode in pain. 

“Who the—” he croaked. Calico, grinning widely, handed him a bottle of water. 

“You've been out for a couple hours.” Turning to Benito, Silver, and Ferris, the last lowering her faintly glowing hands, Calico turned to the girl, saying, “That spell wasn't bad for an amateur.”

Ferris looked embarrassed. William, swallowing the water, rasped, “Well, I can guess who won  that . I must be rusty if I got knocked unconscious for that long, though.” His sharp incisor pressed into his lip, and he added, “It was totally painless for me. How the hell did you manage to accomplish that?” He looked pointedly at the responsible person, and she swallowed.

Benito slapped him on his good arm, and William just shot him a look that said, 'don't touch the merchandise.' Ferris cleared her throat once, then twice. “Sleeping spell,” she said almost inaudibly.

Silver was staring at Ferris with fascination, looking as if he wanted to ask a question, but was looking for the best way to phrase it. William muttered, eying Ferris with an arched whisker, “Well, that'll teach me to push an unknown opponent too far, too fast.” He sighed, scratching the back of his black ear. “I...apologize.”

“But...” Ferris said. 

William grumbled, “This doesn't mean that we're buddies, but at least I trust you to watch my back in battle. Because you could've killed me.” His eyes stared into hers, considering. “But you didn't.”

“Why would I?” Ferris asked, her brow knitting in curiosity.

Benito put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “We're all paranoid bastards after all the fighting and backstabbing of former mates.” The girl nodded slowly.

Alvilda appeared at the door of the infirmary, her back ramrod straight, and zeroed in on Calico. “Is my second-in-command back in one piece?” 

“I'm fine, Alvilda,” William answered, getting out of the hammock that he had been in, Calico immediately bristling. “Don't go mother hen on me, Calico, it was just a sprained wrist.”

“But—where are you taking him? He needs at least a few hours, Sergeant!” Calico growled.

Alvilda grimly shook her hand. “We're short in the mines. And there's an emergency.”

“What kind of emergency?” Calico demanded, but William was already putting on his pack. 

Alvilda said shortly, “I'm sorry, Calico, that's classified.” Looking back, her eyes darkened. She looked at William's wrist, saying, “You did a good job on that, Calico.”

Calico's mouth became a set line. “ I didn't heal him. Ferris did.”

“ What ?” Alvilda snapped. “She's the one who injured him!” 

Benito was about to come to Ferris' defense, but William cut in. “Enough, Alvilda,” he said. She jerked her head back towards him, surprised.

“What?” she said again. 

“Now you're just repeating yourself,” he said dryly. “I'm ready, what about you?”

The tabby, shaking her head, said, “Yeah. I'll keep you from doing any heavy lifting of any kind. And you're to stay off the front lines.”

William nodded curtly, and the two left the infirmary.

After a moment watching the two leave, Silver turned back to a silent Ferris, saying, “Private Ferris, Sixpack has requested to speak to you after you were done your business here. It's about your first mission.”

“Really?” Ferris asked. She was solemnly looking where William had departed. “I'll get to that now. Thanks—” she looked at him speculatively. “Silver, right?”

Silver blinked. “You remembered my name?”

Ferris smiled at him, nodding, and departed. 

Silver, somewhat taken aback, turned to Benito, clearing his throat. “So. William really knows how to handle Alvilda, doesn't he?” he joked, “you could learn a thing or two from that.”

Benito rubbed his forehead, grinning to himself. 

Then Calico screamed at them, “I need bandages, chop chop!” and they went back to work, tending to the wounded.

 

~*~

 

Margaret was reading a manual on scimitar-play while leaning against a pillar in the corridor when she spotted Ferris coming out of Sixpack's office, or rather, the inventory room. Ferris was preoccupied, her brow furrowed in thought, clutching a manila envelope, and Margaret called out to her, “Hey.”

Ferris looked up, her mouth turning upward. “Hey. Whatcha reading?”

The young kitten pointed to the title of the book on the cover which read,  Proper Sword Exercises for the Younger Set . Ferris remained silent, her brow still furrowed. “Um.”

“What's the matter?” Margaret said, joking, she gestured with her paw for the girl to come closer. “If you can't see...” Ferris stayed in place, suddenly looking down and away at her feet. Margaret came up, and said uncertainly, trying to joke, “Can't read?”

Ferris remained silent, her cheeks red, and Margaret went silent. The girl was certainly older than her, but strangely, while things like magic and swordplay came to Ferris naturally which were foreign matters to the kitten in hands-on experience, Ferris didn't know a thing about friendship, or basic foods, and now she couldn't read? Unlike many of their differences, one thing the Gunboss and Bloodhook shared was similar views on the importance of educating their youth, and everyone was taught reading and writing, if only to learn how to read maps, coded messages, and training manuals. 

It made Margaret wonder what kind of amnesia could leave a person so completely bereft. And it made her a little sad too.

Her eyes soft with compassion, she tapped the blonde girl on the nose, who looked up then. “Hey. I can teach you how to read.”

“I can't,” Ferris said quietly. 

“Why?” she pressed. 

“I'm leaving on a mission soon.” 

Margaret frowned. “But you'll come back, right?”

She shrugged, her face lined with worry. “I hope so.”

The kitten felt a clench in her gut. Surely General Sixpack wouldn't have given a recruit anything  too  dangerous? She had been living in the stalemate for most of her life, and hadn't had anyone close to her die, thank Goddess. Smiling brightly, she said, “You will.”

Ferris looked at her briefly, and carefully tapped her on the nose back, to which Margaret giggled. “Yeah,” she said. It was if that one smile had filled her with confidence. “I've got to get ready.”

“And I can teach you how to read when you return!” the kitten announced decisively. 

Ferris smiled finally and said, “I can't wait.”

 

~*~

 

Bragg stirred at the dim lamp shining in his face, and looked up, to the sound of soft snoring from the cell next to him. It was around sunset now. There was a grumpy Oliver, who was peering down at him. “Visitor,” he said curtly. Ferris was standing there, in the white clothes that she had been found in, freshly laundered. Her bronze blade was buckled to her belt, and she had a buckler on her wrist. Over her skirt and shirt were leather armors. Oliver watched as Bragg stirred from his hammock, and got up to go to the bars of the cage. “No funny business this time,” he warned Ferris sternly, who nodded in response. The light bobbed away, back down the corridor, and Oliver resumed playing chess with a guard, one that Bragg didn't know the name of.

“Did I heal everything from last time?” Ferris asked, her voice low.

“I'm fine,” he grinned at her. “Did you get into a lot of trouble with Sixpack?”

She shook her head, tucking loose blonde hair back. “No. The general didn't give me any problems in that regard. I wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

Bragg looked at her, realization dawning on him with a jerk. “You're leaving?”

“My first mission,” answered Ferris. She looked down the corridor when Oliver swore fiercely, having lost one of his rooks. 

“Of what?”

“It's a secret!” she said, winking. “The official purpose of the mission is that I'm to only find a way into the Gunboss. They even gave me back my crystal.”

Bragg's whiskers immediately lifted, very interested in now. So Oliver had already set his machinations into motion. He didn't know what he could do from his position here. Probably not much. Mentally he asked himself:  how can I keep Ferris out of trouble?  Then he hit upon a solution.

“Ferris,” he said very softly, “listen to me very carefully. The cat in the cell next to me is a Gunboss prisoner-of-war. If you try to get into the Gunboss from the front entrance, they won't recognize you, and will probably throw you out, if not kill you or jail you in  their brig.” Bragg winked back at her then. “That guy over there talks in his sleep sometimes. And he's let slip that there's a secret entrance to the Gunboss that not even most of the Gunboss know.”

“Where?” Ferris mouthed.

Bragg shrugged. “That will be your task to find out,” he whispered. He saw a light coming down the corridor. Looks like we're out of time.”

Oliver had come back, thoroughly annoyed now that he had formally lost the chess game he had been playing. “Your time is up,” he said to Ferris. His eyes lidded, as he looked at her, he added, “Do your best on the mission, private.” Only Bragg caught the malice in his eye, but he could say nothing.

 

~*~

 

Just after the burning sun set into the horizon, the first thing Ferris did was make sure that she was far, far away from any prying eyes. Or at least, attempted to. She did notice that there  was someone following her for some distance; from underneath the sound of the occasional breeze, and the cawing of a crow out there, she heard very deliberate, purposeful steps being taken. There was great care taken to make sure that they were unheard, but Ferris could sense the presence behind her. 

Finally, she stopped where she was walking, and not bothering to turn around, she said, “I don't think you're trying to hurt me, but you've been following me since I left the Bloodhook.” She quickly thought back to who out of the Bloodhook would want to see her fail the most, and happened to have a very heavy weapon—oh. “Alvilda? Is that you?”

From behind a sand dune emerged the tabby, covered with a lot of sand. Shaking it off with annoyance, she said, “How did  you  know?” Ferris hoisted the crystal out of her pocket, and pointed at it, which was letting off a warm, comforting hum, and then the light it was emitting concentrated, and pointed squarely into Alvilda's orange-furred chest. The tabby batted at it irritably, saying, “Hey, turn that thing off!” Ferris acquiesced, placing it back into the folds of her skirt, and the light faded slightly. “I guess you weren't lying about  that ,” Alvilda said. “And you are heading to the Gunboss.” She frowned slightly, chewing her lip.

There were a few tense moments, then Ferris asked, “Is there a problem? I'm doing as Sixpack ordered.” A pause. “Um, how come you aren't still in the mines?”

“I was reassigned,” she bit out, and a stiff silence proceeded. At last, Alvilda shrugged carelessly, and looked at Ferris straight in the eyes. “I've still got my eye on you, stranger. I don't trust you any further than I can throw you.” 

“You look fairly strong. I bet you could throw me pretty far,” Ferris said blankly.

Alvilda was about to snarl some nasty rebuttal, but quickly calmed herself. “Forget it,” she said angrily. “but if I catch you swapping secrets with some fellow traitor, I'm not going to let you off easy.” With that, she stomped back towards the Bloodhook, giving Ferris a good view of the infamous battle-axe strapped to her back. 

 

~*~

 

When she had arrived in this world of sand, Ferris had been heading to the spot where her crystal was pointing with a beam of light, but just as something had appeared on the horizon, the crystal started to hum to indicate something that intended harm, and the murder of crows had appeared. Clumsily, Ferris had unsheathed her sword as quickly as her inexperience allowed, and though it was heavier than she expected, she had managed to beat back some of them. 

There were too many of them, though, and when one dived and cut open her hand, causing thin lines of blood to appear, she felt...something within her...respond. It was the only way she could describe it, and with some concentration she directed that looming power inside her to emerge, and the blood that had beaded up remained, staining her white linen, but the wound closed with a rush of cooling warmth. She hadn't known what it was then, this power, but now she did:  magic .

So awed she was by this mystery that she wasn't paying attention when another dive-bombed her scalp, and she had been knocked unconscious. The rest, as they say, was history.

Megami had never mentioned that she was magically capable. When Ferris was in the infirmary with Calico after seeing Sixpack, she had asked her who were the other people around here who could use magic. 

The doctor had blinked at the unexpected question, but had shrugged. “Oh, it's an uncommon gift, but there are some left that still can cast spells. Most people out there can only manage to cast a fire or healing spell or three. Ferris could tell that Calico wanted to press her for more information, but when Ferris bit her lip, realizing that  I think that power I felt was capable of quite a bit more than that , she didn't feel comfortable disclosing  that . 

“Though,” Calico paused. “We do have an older witch that lives in the lighthouse not far from here. She's supposed to be able to brew some good magical potions. Nobody knows the extent of her powers—she hardly ever comes out.” Ferris' curiosity was piqued, but she just nodded.

When Alvilda had been out of sight, and Ferris was deep within the cave that she had discovered among a pile of rocks, north from the Bloodhook. One wouldn't have known to look for it at all, unless one had been told about it.

Ferris settled in at the front entrance, experimenting around with her magic, not wanting a repeat of something unexpected happening— like William , she thought grimly to herself—testing the power within herself. She knew she could heal minor wounds, and probably stronger ones, when she grew stronger and more sure of herself. 

She shut her eyes, drawing a deep breath, and cleared her mind of everything but concentrating on that power. A power unlike others, a gift that few had...she began to shiver a little, when she felt the tendrils of coldness spread from her hand, burning worse than fire, then she released that uncontrolled sensation...that  power . 

When Ferris opened her eyes, they widened when she saw that she had covered the wall and part of the floor with a thick coat of ice. It was a much stronger spell than the one she had cast back when Sixpack had asked her to demonstrate back in his office. He'd actually had a soldier toss a knife at her to try to psyche her into reacting by instinct. It worked. Without thinking, Ferris had halted the trajectory of the knife with a glance, and it dropped to the ground harmlessly with a clink—sheathed in ice. 

Ferris stared at the ice-coated wall, thinking silently that she must be getting stronger. She shrugged, turning to leave, when she screamed. A skeleton emerged from the other corridor, charging towards her. Backing up, and fumbling with her hilt, she was given a few moments' reprieve when the skeleton tripped and fell to the ground when it ran over the ice. 

Hiding a giggle, the bronze blade was unsheathed with a scraping sound, and swung forward to meet the pirate scimitar, causing sparks to leap between the two blades. Pushing hard against the unnatural strength of the wielder of the scimitar, Ferris neatly turned, her braids swinging, switching her grip, and clouted the skeleton with the back of her sheath. It staggered and fell back, taking a few steps to regain its balance, and charged forward once more.

It was a skilled opponent, and though she had a slight advantage in being faster, it was stronger. The blonde girl and the skeleton continued to wield their blades against each other in the cramped darkness of the cave, and Ferris more than once scraped the end of her sword against the dirt walls. The trouble with this duel was that while she tired, the skeleton did not. At last, she chanted quietly under her breath, and with a hiss, she released the spell, and the skeleton slumped, falling asleep. 

Panting to catch her breath, Ferris wiped some sweat from her forehead, brushing some blonde hair out of her eyes. "Didn't think that would work," she muttered. "I guess even the undead have to sleep every once in a while." Quickly, she planted a firm kick into the center of the skeleton's chest, and it came apart, shattering into bone fragments.

Sighing with relief, she examined the sword it had been swinging at her, and, noticing that it was of finer quality than her bronze blade, she picked it up. Then as she was turning to go deeper into the cave, she skidded on a part of the ice-slicked floor.

"Ow," she grumbled. "So much for making a good exit."

 

~*~

 

Pinkhead sighed as he hoisted his mallet, working steadily at hammering out a new pirate knife, swiping at his pink bandanna. Blacksmithing was definitely not one of his strengths, not to mention he was making weapons to be used against his own side. He did try to create a few defective ones every once in a while to his assuage his guilty conscience, but it did little good, now that he found himself increasingly troubled by what he was doing to the Gunboss, which he knew almost better than his own Bloodhook at this point.

When a blonde girl emerged from the furnace, asking, “Are you Pinkhead? I'm Ferris,” the cat, his nerves already on edge, dropped the mallet he had been wielding in utter shock. Onto his foot. The leather boot he was wearing did little to lessen the impact of the blow.

"MeOWOW!" he yelled, hopping back and forth on his good foot, hollering in pain. The girl made a small noise of surprise and approached, stooping down to the injured foot. She chanted lowly, and his foot warmed, and the pain, slowly, but surely, began to fade.

"Pinkhead?" called out Giovanna, her voice echoing in the adjacent hall. Ferris blinked, and Pinkhead quickly regained his bearings. The blue cat grabbed Ferris, and shoved her back into the unused furnace, before she could so much as say anything. The gray cat poked her head into the forge, and asked, "Did you hurt yourself or something?"

"Uh..." Pinkhead stuttered. "Just, ah, dropped the mallet on my toe." Before Giovanna could step inside his work area, he said, "Uh, wait! I used a little of my potion, I'm fine."

Giovanna eyed him. "Are you sure you should be using it on such a minor injury? Musil's going to have kittens over you wasting potions like that."

"It was not minor, and you know Musil can't have kittens, he's a boy," huffed Pinkhead. "If you want to see my blackened nail with my bloodstained shoe, you're welcome to come in.”

"Augh, spare me the gory details!" Giovanna said, paling. "I just wanted to see if you were all right." She quickly left, leaving Pinkhead sighing inwardly with relief. Giovanna could barely stand the sight of blood, let alone mangled body parts.

Once her footsteps faded from earshot, the girl from the furnace murmured. "Um, can I come out now? You really ought to clean in here more often; it's awful dusty. A bit warm too."

"Oh, sorry!" Pinkhead turned...well, pink in the cheeks, and hurried to help the young woman out.

The blue cat examined her closely. She was a slender girl, but her clothes made her appear larger than she was. They were normally a glowing white from what he could discern from under all that soot._H_e felt a bit abashed at having shoved this Ferris back into the furnace. At least it was unlit.

"I'm presuming you're from the Bloodhook?" Pinkhead gestured to the secret passage that led from the outside to the Gunboss. "You found out about this passage. The only people who are supposed to know about this passage from ou—the Gunboss are myself and the captain."

“You'd be surprised at the rumors people start,” The girl grinned, coughing a little. “I guess this would count as a security breach.” She coughed again.

The blue cat asked, “Want some water?” but the girl shrugged him off, looking at the small warm room, neatly-kept, the bed made, covered with a clashing patchwork quilt. She asked, "And you're Pinkhead, right?" He looked surprised, and she grinned, her teeth white against her charcoal-smudged skin. "They said to look out for your pink bandanna." He felt himself smiling, adjusting said bandanna against his sweaty fur.

Pinkhead said, "I don't recognize you, though."

"I'm a newcomer," she explained, as she wiped soot off her skirt. "They just recruited me a few days ago—name's Ferris, like I said. They sent me on this mission to test me."

"Hmm, they usually don't send out someone as green as you on something like this," Pinkhead said, his eyes tired, his head bowed. "We must be getting desperate. Do you have a message for me?” The girl nodded, drawing out a folded piece of paper, handing it to him. He quickly opened it and read the coded message. It read as followed:

_ Bi hir rptqr rpo foqqohmop ghy stpreop regh yit ngh retiw eop. Qeo lq ihdy g vopy jiwopstd jgwh, utr quldd g jgwh. Qohb wlre eop yitp pojipu, nibeb gq relq iho wgq._

Wearily, he quickly translated it by sight, having been so practiced with the code, and it left him slightly aghast. “Do not trust the messenger any further than you can throw her. She is a very powerful pawn, but still a pawn. Send her your report, coded as this one was.” It was surprisingly brief, considering that there had been no communications for almost a year. He felt a brief flash of anger; what, no inquiries of how  _he_ was? But this was war, after all. 

Pinkhead stared at the girl, and the girl stared back. They were back hiring mercenaries again? How badly  _was _ the war effort going? He also felt a slight distaste on relying on people that the upper echelons obviously didn't trust. He had to ask. “Did you read this message?” he asked her.

She looked away, as if embarrassed; he knew from being a spy all these years, after all. “I can't read.”

Frowning to cover his surprise, he asked her, “You can't?”

Ferris cocked her head, not able to keep the happy tone in her voice as she said, “But somebody said they'd teach me when I get back.”

“Oh,” was all Pinkhead could manage. He hadn't met very many people like her kind, but she seemed...stranger than the run-of-the-mill. There was something definitely off about her. She didn't seem too bad, but the 'powerful pawn' comment left him slightly ill. She was obviously magically adept, but from the reading of her body language...it was a confusing combination, and he would need more time with this Ferris to get a better grip on her.

But now was not the time. He went to his bed, and taking out from underneath the cushion his report, looking it over. He hurriedly added a few additional sentences, and handed it to Ferris. Biting his lip, he asked. "How is...everyone? Sixpack, and..." he broke off his sentence, feeling glum. Sure, he had been spying on Gunboss for...was it three years now? While he missed the crew of the Bloodhook, he felt himself identifying a great deal with the Gunboss, and when he thought about leaving them to betray them, he felt queasy.

She bent down to where he had stooped by his bedside, and smiled comfortingly. "There were no casualties in the last scuffle, as far as I know. Sixpack told me to tell you that directly." Pinkhead sighed inwardly with relief, and looked back at Ferris. "Also, from a personal standpoint, Sixpack is all right too, if somewhat worn." Pinkhead knew that he should have been more careful with his words. The message _had _said not to trust her.

The blue cat shook his head, feeling pretty worn himself. "You'll get that back to him as soon as you can, right?"

"Yes."

Ferris crawled back into the furnace to leave, and Pinkhead brushed some soot from his face. The stuff was making his eyes water.

 

~*~

 

Two days later, back on the the Bloodhook, Ferris popped her head into William and Benito's bunk, singing, "Benny!" The black cat snorted at the affectionate name, while Benito growled and threw a pillow at her.

"Don't call me that," he said good-naturedly, but without sharpness.

She sat on one of the crates that they had in the room, which tripled as a table and chair, clutching the pillow to her chest. "Whatcha doing?"

They were moving around different pieces of carved wood on a black and white checkered board, some black, others white. They were of varying heights, each carved differently, and Ferris noticed when they moved the pieces around, they moved them in different patterns. It all looked very complicated and taxing on the mental faculties.

"Never seen a game of chess before, kid?" He offered her a cup of catnip beer, which Ferris refused. "What, don't like it?"

"It's okay, but I don't drink anyway," the girl replied.

Benito snorted into his drink. "Maybe you just haven't had enough."

Ferris smiled, watching William take Benito's knight with a rook with fascination. "I don't want to get stinking drunk while I'm on the job anyway." The black cat stared up at her with curiosity, and she explained. "Sixpack gave me a second mission." She held aloft a rank insignia...for Gunboss. "This'll let me get into Gunboss freely."

"I bet Alvilda _loved _that," Benito laughed.

The blonde girl bit her lip thoughtfully. "Is there a reason why she's so suspicious of me? Calico, as tough as she is, doesn't seem to have given me as hard a time as she does."

"Bah," Benito snorted again, "Alvilda's been in this war for too long, while Calico is an old softie at heart." He sipped some beer. "If the doc likes you right off the bat like she did with you, it's smooth sailing from there."

William smiled, his knight taking another of Benito's pawns, to a chorus of his colorful swearing. "Benito's been trying to get into Alvilda's pants since he arrived. She's a smart and tough cat, though, and is on to him."

Benito pouted and sighed mournfully, “C'mon, give me a little credit here. Been lovesick for her for a year, didn't you say so yourself, William?”

While William let out a soft sigh in acknowledgment, Ferris said, confused, "Why Alvilda? Isn't she almost ten years older than you?"

There was a pause, and then William cracked a smile, the most expressive thing Ferris had seen on his face since she had met him, and even the subject of the joke, Benito, couldn't help but blush.

"True love defies age boundaries," William said with a straight face. Benito cracked up when William added, "And Benito is under the impression that women age like fine wine." The black cat snorted in derision.

Ferris, not quite sure what to make of this comment, abruptly changed tacks. "So...chess," she began. "Could you teach me how to play?"

"As much as I'd like to, I've got guard duty coming up," sighed Benito, and he grumbled when William finally checkmated him with his queen.

William looked up at Ferris, slight smile on his face. "I'll teach you, I've got the evening shift."

Ferris said bluntly, "You look like the better player anyway."

"Gee, thanks," grumbled Benito. "Though you are absolutely right on that count. I suck at all this strategy stuff. Definitely into preemptive strikes."

"Hmm?" Ferris asked.

"Get them before they get you," William explained. "And that's a terrible strategy in some cases, because what if they come in peace?"

The gray cat shook his head. "Don't overthink the game, William. Of _course _they're out to capture your king."

"I was referring to the war, not..." he gestured to the wooden chess pieces and board, "this _game_." He scowled, falling silent.

Benito sighed, picking up his scimitar. "Well, there is that." He took his leave then, saying, "I bid you cats adieu."

"So how do you play?" asked Ferris, thumping down on the crate that Benito had been previously occupying. She was still clutching the pillow that had been thrown at her, her face screwed up in concentration.

William scratched his chin, wondering where to begin. "Well, we might as throw you right into the deep end." He quickly ran through the basic maneuvers that each piece could perform, and threw in the castling. First, he set up a game, and was surprised to see that Ferris, upon careful thought, was able to prevent herself from being checkmated in four moves. She lasted quite a bit longer than most beginners, forming a pawn barricade, and buying herself some time, but the eventual lack of experience caught up with her, and eventually, William was able to checkmate her.

Nodding, he said, after she carefully examined how he had done it, "You sure put a lot more thought into playing than most other people."

Ferris was thoughtful. "I don't know. The knights, I kind of see as a waste. I mean, they seem more fodder than actual pieces. Even pawns I get more mileage out of."

William cocked his head, intrigued. "Yeah, most people see it like that, because knights are so difficult to use. They move in a rather strange pattern unlike the other pieces. But it's precisely because their movements are more difficult to understand is why they are useful." Ferris blinked, and looked at him. "Say, let's do a puzzle." He arranged the white pawns onto the board in a series, and handing her a black knight, saying, "Capture all the white pawns with this one knight."

The blonde girl frowned, taking the knight, and looked at the board. After seeing the pattern, she cleared the board of all the pawns, capturing them all. "But that's a very special case," she said to William. "It's not always that clear cut to see how a knight can be useful in a situation."

William showed his teeth at her. "While the example isn't perfect, do you understand what I mean? In a war, you're given a set of troops, each with unique attributes. Some seem more useful than the others, but in order to increase your chances of success, only a foolhardy commander would fail to press every advantage he has, no matter how strange the cat was." Then he stopped his lecture, his face suddenly softening. It was quiet for a few moments, as he shook his head to himself, looking rueful. “Ferris, do you want to play another game?”

She shook her head, getting up. “I promised to meet Margaret when I got back. She—” Ferris was clearly blushing. “Well, it's a secret too.”

William eyed her, asking, “Good or bad?”

“Nah, she's just going to teach me stuff,” she quickly bowed, her pigtails bouncing. “I'll see you after I complete mission two!”

He nodded, smiling genuinely at her for the first time. “Keep up the good work. Private Rachel's been asking about you.”  
“Thanks, William!”

After she'd left, he could hear the patter of paws on the deck in the shadows of the room across the hall. “Sergeant, I do wish you'd stop spying on her.”

There was no response other than the scraping of a battle-axe against the door.

 

~*~

 

_They're the enemy_, Pinkhead kept telling himself as he was drinking himself under the table at Gunboss' fine bar. Musil and Giovanna had detected his sour mood, and being the good cats they were, kept him company, occasionally making sure he wasn't imbibing more than he could handle. _They were decent cats, good buddies._ Which made what he was doing even worse.

_Even if they were good cats, they're not fellow cats of yours. They're...fighting against your side—only for the same reasons that you are—to defend the ones that they care about, the precious land and resources that Gunboss had taken._ Even so, wasn't _their _side the _right _side? What did this war start over again? He had forgotten. He shook his head angrily in the noisy bar. His thoughts were becoming circuitous. Morosely, he took a sip of his black beer.

Then promptly spat it back it out when Ferris walked into the bar.

 

~*~

 

"Ya recognize her?" asked Musil, noticing the unusual reaction. Giovanna started clapping him on the back, as Pinkhead coughed and sputtered.

"Yeah..." he hacked, watching as the tall blonde girl chatted it up with the bartender, asking about the war and how things were going on the Gunboss...Pinkhead shook his head, attempting to clear it. Sixpack must've sent her back to gather intelligence on her own. He didn't know how she got in through the front entrance, and bypass security like that. Whatever the reason, it made him wonder what the hell he should do now.

"Why not invite her over?" said a voice in his ear. The blue cat nearly leapt out of his fur. Pinkhead looked over, watching Ferris nod and listen to the bartender's conversation patiently. Giovanna grinned mirthfully. "You know how loquacious Bart can get."

Pinkhead wondered to himself how good Ferris was at playing the double-agent, and thought it might not be a good idea to try to outwit two bona fide members of the Gunboss. But as he took another draught of his beer, he secretly wondered what _would _happen. It'd probably be all right, as long as Ferris wasn't too drunk. He could just shut up. "Suuure," he slurred slightly, and blinked. He wasn't that far along, was he?

"Good, good!" pronounced Musil, and when Ferris finished talking to Bart, he waved her over, "Hey, newbie? How's it goin'? How do you like the Gunboss so far?"

Ferris smiled eagerly and came over, waving a greeting. "Hello."

"What's your name?" asked Giovanna. She eyed Pinkhead meaningfully, and said jokingly, "We'd ask him, but the moment he saw you, he spat out his beer, so we were wondering if you were an ex-girlfriend or something." The blue cat shot her a withering glare.

"Hey everyone, 's Ferris. This is Musil and Giovanna, Ferris." Pinkhead blinked stupidly.

The girl giggled. "We first met in the forge a few days ago."

Musil looked her over, asking, "He didn't mention you."

"I'm that green," responded Ferris. She looked around in awe at the bar. "You guys have a lot to drink." She admired the many different bottle of wine and beer and hard liquors that surrounded her in the darkened bar, the lights dim enough that the cats' eyes were luminous. Ferris' eyes didn't seem to be able to adjust as well. "Sure is dark in here."

"Bart takes pride in hiiiis...st-sto—stuff." said Pinkhead.

Ferris looked over at him, concerned. "Is he all right?"

"He's been a little down today, for some reason," Giovanna spared him a concerned look. "We can't seem to get the reason out of him. Hence, he's drowning his sorrows in ale."

The girl looked down at the wood table, covered in mug circles. "Hmm..."

Bart sidled up to the table. "Hey, girl, here's your sparkling grape juice." He put the drink, on the rocks, onto the table. "On the house."

"Uh?" Ferris asked, her eyes round. "Um. Thanks."

Musil grinned, "Sparkling grape _juice_? What's wrong, you a teetotaler?" Giovanna smacked him lightly on the arm.

"Not everybody's an alcoholic like _you_, Musil."

Ferris shrugged.

Pinkhead, snapping out of it, stared. "You sure? Stuff's fizzy and stroonggg."

"It is?" the girl blinked bewilderedly.

Giovanna chortled, and Musil's scarred, white face split into a grin. "Ignore 'im. Pinkhead's so drunk that he's going to trip over his own tail when he leaves here, mark my words."

Pinkhead shook his head, bemused, despite himself. "At least I don't make a habit of this, Musil."

Giovanna asked, "So. How'd you get to be here, Ferris? We're kind of out in the middle of nowhere."

The blue cat stiffened. "Guys, don't pry into her private business."

Ferris put down the bubbly drink, giggling as the fizziness tickled her mouth, shoving it back and forth on the counter, thinking. "I'll tell you," she said slowly. "If you guys tell me about how you got here."

"Sure," said Musil, sipping on his own fire scotch. "I'll tell you, it's nothing special, but sure."

"Do we have time to tell the life stories of four people in one night?" sighed Pinkhead. "Don't you two have shift tomorrow?" He eyed Musil and Giovanna

"Weelll..." murmured Ferris thoughtfully. "Maybe not."

"Now, you've got _me _curious," complained Giovanna.

"We can certainly try. Beats just getting drunk all right," said Musil.

Giovanna added, "And my life story's not terribly exciting. It'll take all of two minutes to explain."

Pinkhead could see no reason to stop Ferris, and all he had to do was make sure nothing about the Bloodhook would fall from her lips that would compromise either his or her position when she spoke. He frowned. And it was actually a good opportunity to see what other information he could glean from these Gunboss soldiers.

He felt his stomach flip, and refused to think of it as guilt.

Ferris nodded, pushing aside her glass of sparkling grape juice. "Who wants to go first?"

 

~~**~~


End file.
